on globe’s lot.. meditation wine

No more posting to blog from phone.  It’s too anti-Literary.  Sipping now, 2011 Sauv Blanc, my sister’s production.  Tomorrow, at winery in morning.  My “internship,” if you can call it that.  Just want to learn as much as I can, quicker than quick.  Just wrote a couple lines in a book project.  And yes, I’m calling it a “project,” now, rather than a “book idea.” Thank the winemaking dreams, I can, will.  What am I going to learn tomorrow, for this book, for my winemaking “career?” Promised mySelf I’d read a little from one of my winemaking texts, as well as check out the resourceful website a coworker mentioned, suggested.  He, this coworker, beginning Davis’ V&E program in just days.  Happy for this character, but, yes, quite jealous.

Keeping this entry brief, as I want to get into studies.  This SB…  [after taste] uniquely charming, especially in nose.  It’s clean, from the stainless steel residency, but not metallically simplistic.  Watching this cursor taunt me, remind me that it could exist, writer’s b—-.  I’ll never be able to bring Self to a point of typing it, fully.  My stash, upstairs, angry that I haven’t published yet.  Just need a little more time, I tell those bills.  But how much more do I need?  I’m 2nd-guessing Self, just what Katie told me not 2do.  Looking at the pictures I took today of the Chardonnay clusters, just as I was leaving work.  Who’s going to sip this cluster?  This one?  What will be the occasion?  Thinking about these possibilities makes me want to stay in the vineyard, in the lab, till my efforts are bottled.  I’m in my own meditation now, with this glass of my sister’s SB.  And with my son upstairs, I see I need 2 start following through.  Much more.  Much MUCH more.  Rethinking approaching so I keep Self from sinking in hoaxes.  Again the writer sips…


3: count

Decided not to post the 1000 words from yesterday.  Putting it towards book idea.  And who knows where that’ll go.  But either way, I didn’t want the 1k to be free.  Or, “for free.” Wrote quite a bit of verse this morning, before work departure.  But now, with much cooler temperatures outside, actually saw fog on way home from Whole Foods [those burritos, again], I’m lazy, sipping this ’08 Syrah.  Where are my writing efforts going?  Want to Self-publish, but don’t hold adequate funds.  At least not yet.  And with this blog, again I’m thinking I’m wasting time.  But I can’t do that.  Sticking with plan.  In fact…  Going to post it after this entry.  Just to show you that I wrote yesterday, into later hours.  Taking break now, dinner..  Completely unmotivated to write.  Hate this feeling.  Need road, travel.  Not vacation, just mobility.  Told you that so many times before, though.

10:04pm.  Posting yesterday’s 1k in tomorrow’s early time bracket.  Before sitting for these words, was not in any mood to write.  And quite honestly, I’m still not feeling utterly Literary.  Have my night’s cap, a gorgeously full glass of the ’08 Sonoma Valley Syrah.  Taking inventory of my spoken word pieces, verse.  More than I thought I had.  Rather surprised.   Not going to say “impressed,” but I’d like to.  On my lunch break, while at that umbrellaed table, watching the water spout, looking out at the Chardonnay block, took some Kelly notes.  But I need more development.. have to wait for her to speak to me.  But I want a novel FINISHED.  There, I said it.  Need to handwrite it.  All.  Right now, at this hour, I see her watching a movie, not doing anything Art-centered.  Just enjoying her evening.  What I thought of doing, before here sitting.  What I should have done.  I admire that she’s not as obsessive as me, with Craft.  Need another sip, to further settle.  With this bottle, noticing much more mint on nose.  Not sure how I feel about that in a Syrah.  Palate: blackberry, a chocolate touch, thin jammy winks, playful sensory embrace.  Like what I’m tasting, but I’d have my Syrah much different.  We’ll see how much fruit I can get ahold of this vintage.  Hoping the heat returns, and my sources manage their canopies favorably, so possibly I can do an SB, Syrah, and Cab [the entire whoso lineup].

Met a doctor today.  He was humble, generous, conversant, kind.  I noticed he had no hesitation in telling me he was a physician, could tell he was proud.  Want that sensation with me everyday.  And with this 3rd day, certain sets become even more clear, near.  Then, looking at these newly developed pictures of Jack, I’m even more focused, secure in what I’m doing as a writer.  And everyone urging me to be cautious with my words, being in “the industry,” are completely right.  I should exercise more caution in what I write, type.  But I won’t.  I write, then release.  I’m unafraid of consequence.  Again, like Dad said, if I’m so worried about what others think, how could I be thinking for mySelf?  If the wine world has a problem with a Literary animal in its borders, then it’ll only be gifted more obstacles from what I, and others like me, write.

Sipping again.. love this varietal.  It’s telling me to close my laptop, stop typing on this device.  It won’t even let me finish the verse I started typing this morning.  It orders the most organic, purist of journalistic practice.  Pen, paper…  It wants me to tussle with ink.  In the little notebook.  So that’s what I’ll do.  This wine has me so wooed, that I’ll follow, for once in my life.  And not ask a single question.  It even promises to–  Just thought, it’d be a waste to post those thousand words to blog tomorrow, as I’m surely going to post again when I get home.  And how many would actually read it, understand it.. appreciate it?  To novel.  I said it AGAIN.  Novel.  Novel, my NOVEL.  Can poets write novels, someone once asked me, in the St. Francis tasting Room.  Just remember how foolish they sounded asking me that.  I do now, even more especially.  Kerouac, Plath.  Climbing towards their sultry summit.



Moved over 1,000 words to book idea.  Wrote them over the last few days, and decided this morning, actually right when I woke, that it was too much to just throw up onto blog.  Haven’t had coffee yet, but I’m typing like I did.  Looks overcast, not sure how that’ll affect traffic.  Right after this AM’s 500 words, I’m printing 5 pages.  No [at first, I typed “Now,” conveying just the opposite] more of what I’m planning to do…

Selling wine, I’m finding involves less selling than’s told.  It’s really about connection, connecting someone with a wine they like, or love.  And that, deals with a sea’s worth of luck, who’s approaching you when at counter.  Not sure why I’m exploring this, this morning, but if I want to have my own label, or wine bar, or wine shop like my buddy Dan in Napa, this should always be somewhere in sight.

Still haven’t talked to Katie since her return from France.  Really should get in touch with my winemaking professor sibling, as I need my camera back.  And, now, looking over at Ms. Plath’s entries, I’m reminded of all I have to transfer, poetry-wise, from the little notes, as well as my infecting devil device of a phone.  Right as I woke, typed a moment’s haiku, in the “Notes” section, or app, or whatever.  Have to stop doing that.  Only to paper, I keep reminding Self, but seldom practice.  Time for morning mocha.  Bringing little pages with me, back-pocket.  Hoping it won’t be as hot today. Can’t wait for the rain to come back, much better writing weather.

Had an idea for this paragraph, but I think I may just be getting bored of my voice, my writing, my thoughts.  Can only imagine what it’s like for you, patient reader.  OH, the short stories…  Not telling what I WILL do.  Just going to do.

An office of my own: don’t care how big it is, as long as I have a spot to Self-sequester, to write for 8+ hours a day.  How else would I make a living as one of pen, if I don’t have my own studio, away from fray?  This, my first goal.  If I never own a wine shop, have my own wine label, or embark on the Wine Bar fantasy jaunt, I’ll still be a writer.  I’ll always be A WRITER.  And so, my first official aim [mind you, this is quite significant, for me, to me]: that office, MY office.  Yesterday, my friend Steve said to me over the phone, after I asked him how things were going with his wine bar, with him, “Oh, you know man, just trying to take over the world.” I know the feeling, I thought, and responded.  With my office, I’d be able to, FINALLY, take over MY world.  Off to get coffee.  Hopefully Stacey will have the beer her husband acquired for me, after the last 12 pack she left at work was removed by the clowns that do their nightly deliveries.  “Who would do something like that?” I asked her, still ask mySelf.  Okay, leaving.  Seriously, this time.


6/15/12.  8:48a.  Giving Self ten minutes to write, max.  today, looking for more material.  Scribbled some yesterday, but not enough.  I wasn’t looking hard enough.  Today, Jack turns 4 months.  Tomorrow, Grandma’s 90.  If I’ve ever been reflective in time’s course, it’d be this morning.  No time to be delicate or excessively contemplative.  Just write, release.  All my favorite artists hold that habit.  My song/poem/verse/spoken word collection, increasing.  Daily, if not hourly.  Am I distancing from prose?  Yes, but not entirely.  I need journaled paragraphs, sanity’s sake.  This coffee, telling me to write faster.  Think it’s asking too much, as I’ve been up since 6:20-something.  Wrote for book idea, as I’d aimed.  Only now getting to this “blog.” Tonight, I’ll be arranging 16 tracks for a spoken word collection.  Was going to say “album,” but I feel it’s more than that, deeper.

Self Notes: take more notes on wines, focus on whites; take pictures, see how they’ll further the written efforts..  4 minutes left, and I just lost 5 seconds or so editing the word “minutes,” as I think I initially typed “mniutse.” [???]  Looking forward to the day’s material.  Characters, wines, reactions, weather, tours, all.  What the writing needs, now, at this stage in my days: more whimsicality, the truly tangential.  Why be formalist?  Was Picasso, Dali, Plath, Shakur, Kerouac?  No.  That’s what earned them others’ eyes.


thought – need to be more like Jack, embracing full curiosity, TOTAL Self-instruction; Just see what happens, don’t care, this brings about bold bliss, I’ll bet.  [8:57am]

Friday, Autonomy-Bound. In Wine. Writing. Art. Peace.

11:25am.  Sonnet written.  500+ in book idea.  Thinking of nothing but wine, rime, on way to AV.  Listening to these spoken word pieces from some New York artists has me all the more motivated to just be me.  Not spending my life in seek of please.  That being said, I’m riding on positivity’s sleigh.  Mocha gone.  Saddened, but only briefly, as this morning’s meeting has me more than empowered.  For the first time in a while, I feel in control of my journey through wine’s cloudy industry.

How many pieces should I have prepared for my open mic, next week?  Well, if I can find one, that’s what I keep realizing.  I know Sebastopol has some, from time2time.  And North Light, in Cotati.  And if I don’t find one, I’ll just record [for the first time in probably a year…  I think].  Whatever I have to do to share my words, pages.

Hate commercials on Pandora.  Buying an upgrade when home tonight.  Also going to buy direct video upload capability for 1Stop.  True, my focus is on the writing, but 1Stop’s my business, the only effort I can afford.  And the footage addition isn’t that much.  Only $50-something, I believe.  Will have little pages on person at AV event, note moments for Wine Bar idea that’s been slithering in my sights, quite forwardly in days recent.  Why are they there, these fancies?  Where would I open this bar?  How would I fund it?  Don’t preoccupy Self with such, I think, sitting here, counting down.  “Just enjoy the ideas, the fantasy,” I hear Kelly saying.  Autonomy, my career goal…  How hard could that be, right?  Again, if those derelict swine statues [all the odd, socially inept idiots I’ve met over the years, owning their own shop] can be successful [at whatever operation type they hold], then I’m sure to be soon in comfortably tasty peace.



1000 Words, Road A.M. [stabilized]

Wasn’t going to bring laptop, but, as I stated in a note I took this morning, I rarely get around to transferring the writing, just ‘cause of my writing style–it being so fast, in-the- moment, streamed.  Time, according to this device, 8:51a.  Knew I wasn’t going to get here at 8:30, as I wanted to, or usually shoot for, since I made coffee at home.  Two strong cups, still swimming in my system.  So, hoped for 8:40a, but was held up by a bike race here in AV, all along Chalk Hill.  Lucky me.  Listening to Thievery, as always, with window down.  Thinking about day ahead, and this Sunday (my home tasting, Wine/varietal analysis).  Thinking I’m only going to do 1 wine.  And the varietal?  Probably Syrah, as I think it’s the most fun to taste, composition-wise.

Quite pleased with the stills I yesterday shot in Sonoma’s Valley.  The music stopped spilling through my phone.  Why does it always do that here, on 128’s side.  May be a signal issue.  Just noticed some vineyard workers to my left, and up the embankment, walking rows of a vineyard.  Never noticed there was one up there.  Should have known…  There’re vines all around me, why I love writing here every Saturday, Sunday so early.  Today, I’m betting, quite busy at AV Winery.  Can’t wait for the tours, the characters, their reactions to the wines, how they describe them.  Okay, music not working on phone, will play songs here on monster…


8:59a.  51 minutes left to Self, for the page.  Not sure where to go with this session, except to tell you how I can’t wait for Artistic Autonomy.  That’s towards what I’m writing.  It’ll be better for, certainly me, but more so Jack.  I won’t be gone 8 hours, 8+, five days/week.  And Self-publishing, I’m holding back for now.  Doesn’t mean I’m going to halt in allocating pages to this book idea, I’m merely holding off the actual publishing of the work.  Don’t think it’d be responsible to spend that much money on something I may not have adequate time to sell.  So what will I sell, in terms of written works?  Self.  I’ll be the product, the brand.  Why would someone want to purchase me?  Don’t have an answer for you.  Just have to put all channels of my heart into these syllables, and KNOW I’m doing the right thing.

Need new business cards.  Soon, AGAIN.  Luckily, I still have well over 100 to last me a bit.  Oh, just remembered I have a Cabernet at home I could use for Sunday’s analysis.  Completely forgot about that bottle.  That saves me some currency, in my evaporating balance.  Love the song that now plays.  Makes me think of France, Paris, traveling.  Can only imagine the sights that Mom and Dad are capturing, as I type here on the unpaved earth, counting down minutes before I have to “host” people on tours.  I love what I do, now.  But, everyone knows what I really want.  And, being only 17 days from 33, I continue to deteriorate into an impatient dust storm.  But, I’ll write my way through it.  And, I stall to say, this blog will help.  I can immediately release my reactionary prose, verse.  But, there is a deadline.  12/31/2012, 11:59pm.  After that, I don’t know.  Before that date, I will have my Autonomy.  My office.  My crafted Now.

Disappointed I didn’t wake the other morning at 6:20a as I targeted.  But, this morning redeems.  Love this cold air sneaking into this dirty cabin.  When was the last time I had this mini-tank washed?  Just had a flashback of my Literary Lunches on 1st & Main, with this current song, “Illusion (Rollercone Remix)” from the Hôtel Costes 5 Album, or one of the versions, I don’t know.  Either way, I remember having my second mocha, typing angrily, racing to soak into every drop of that 60-minute freedom injection.  Isn’t that more or less what I’m doing now, here in the XA?  Somewhat.  From here, I go to a beautiful winery.  From the Roasting Company, I always returned to a malignantly toxic, vile, office, surround by wine industry snitches and opportunists.  Topic next …


Kelly, recently went to NYC, I was writing the other night.  Her first time on the East Coast, in Manhattan.  The biggest break for her as an Artist.  A gallery caught news of her odd color blends, blurred images, visual voice.  A couple galleries, hosting a collective showing, paid for her flight, hotel accommodations.  Interesting writing about this character, being envious of her talent, progression, travels.  Can’t be annoyed by this paginated presence.  She, I feel, will carry me to what my work needs, that perpetual mobility.  Can’t afford to give her a book yet, with all those paper and copy costs, so she’ll have to settle for a stationary situation on these blog screens.  Sorry, Kelly..

Nearing my thousand.  That was quick.  9:21am.  Time passing cruelly, just like at that Roasting Co, with its airborne coffee essences, walled paintings, view of the 1st & Main intersection, passing characters [tourist, local].  You know what, giving Self till 9:30a, then stopping, cruising over to the Jimtown Store.  Maybe I’ll treat Self to one of those Chicken Salad Sandwiches.  Truck just pulled in behind, to left of XA, only to speed off obnoxiously, using the dirt as annoyance artillery, attaching to air.  Not bothered, only motivated to faster finish.  Back to the paper vs blog issue, just thought: Yes, as I’ve so many times before noted, anyone can write a blog.  BUT, there is only one ME; only one of my voice, style, page presence/persistence.  Just as there are so many musicians out there: So many have demo tapes, indi albums, singles, EP’s, what have… but it’s the ones with unique flight that reverberate with populace, stay in minds, and INSPIRE.  So yes, there are other Literary bloggers, or just writers with blogs.  But they don’t, can’t, NEVER will write like Madigan, Mike.

9:27a.  Over 1k, typed.  No troublesome transfer.  Should get on road a minute or two early to JTown, enjoy more air in this cluttered cabin.  Need that car wash, soon.  Need a nice mobile office.  Just had bikers pass, laughing, one of them saying “I’m getting tired, thinking of that wine already!” The other biker, his right, laughing.  Now, me, leaving.  Love the AM session, almost as much I infatuate with Kelly’s corner.