No elaboration here. Looking through notes, old entries of when in the wine industry, then some from Sonic when my SE Ditter and I would drive to Berkeley and talk to prospects about fiber-optics and hosted voice solutions, firewalls and access points. During covid and before.
Like the Nurse said earlier when we were having coffee, time just went by like it was a dream, or quick idea and here you are. She telling me her story again about how she became a Nurse, all the stakes, what she was fighting for… will let her divulge detail if she ever wishes to in her writings, and she ever is compelled to put it to page.
Dinner in Winters tonight, little surprise from her. Excited for the new restaurant.. can’t remember the name but it’s Italian, so the wine list should be engaging. Then I start thinking about this return I want to make to the wine industry…. How, I just need to force it to happen.
Write about anything and EVERYTHING wine and wine business, industry, location and valley and site. I need to be more consistent, I wrote in the journal the Nurse bought me recently. She bought one for herself to log certain ideas and discoveries on certain journeys…. Any event, EVERYTHING about wine needs to be logged, then go past it and beyond it, distant, then slowly return.
The other day at St. Francis walking the vineyard with Mom and Dad the Nurse and I did, then inside to do some tasting…
Would write more, but need to ready for night. I’m n to writing enough, I know. Full day of work and emails and content and who knows what else tomorrow… feeling a bit scattered and inconsistent. SHIT—
In the Nurse’s room while she’s away at her appt…. Leaving keys, heading to thoughts, images, notes and dreams of a vineyard. Why do I get fucking distracted? Well, easy… MONEY.
Seriously, what is wrong with me right now? Why can’t I focus? Lot going on… calm, Composition, Character…. Everything is in its right place.