Looking back at the writer.
but designing. And if you’ve stayed or parted from the design, you put yourself back in it. Don’t scold yourself. At all, much less excessively. Go back to your sight and self-promise, actuating your fire and story. Collect, breathe, calm. There’s another scene soon to start.
planning for the next should
always creatively catalyze.
a leg up on the day, maybe more with the thousand or so words I earlier wrote. I do feel tired still, a bit, but the run woke me. Going down to Novato, hopefully get some appointments set for businesses and executives to me. Need to shave, wear clothes bought last night. Hopefully that shirt fits. After work, home. Wine and laundry. Bed early more or less, again. And if not, then I run in the heat. OR at night. At some point. No more excuses, no more anything that… well, can’t run tomorrow night. Have a Pinot tasting at Mom and Dad’s, and I need to get a couple Pinots for that. I’ll hit Oliver’s tonight, get a burrito or something.
I now feel the tired wings wrap me in its intentions. Just have to keep moving. Dinner, laundry, just realized this is not a fun topic to write, and I bet even more painful to read. I need to travel. Even my kids are in DC now after spending a couple nights in NYC, seeing a Broadway show. That’s it. Travel. And a weekend day in Napa doesn’t count, fun as it was.
Pinot Noir… tonight. Budget is…. What. Maybe get dinner at Oliver’s then head to Bottle Barn. I don’t know. I overthink. And I’ve noticed myself doing it A LOT, lately.
Haven’t started editing piece from yesterday, the tasting room one about the two in the Room on a dead day. Will do today possibly at lunch. Or am I running at lunch. Run. Many will be out of the office today, so I can get quite a bit done. Contact new contacts, email other account executives. The day more or less planned, and I sit here typing with the little time I have left after taking wife and wee beats to bus, the airporter taking them to SF.
Dinner tonight, something light. Wake early before friend Chris arrives and run. Budget for Napa mission, brought down from its initial peak. Only looking to buy a bottle from each visited. Keep expenses constricted and tense, the day musical. This one especially, yield more pages. Need new pieces and ingredients to written recipe, precisely the reason for journey. Wine orders plays a new beat, and I recite what I can… Cabernet, like a one act play, but then I’m like dried clay here at the kitchen counter. Realizing the quiet, like a meditative riot tyrannical like Pontius Pilate.
6:34, another coffee at my composition door. Not from Starbucks but my own yesterday bought at store while getting bites for mini’s, saying they wanted 4th of July snacks and wanting to play outside and did but only for a bit the heat getting to them and me much quicker than forecast.
Think of editing This is The Tasting Room piece, but…. What the whatever, first paragraph…. Read a bit more. Mostly dialogue. Do I want to change that, switch it up a little? More narration? Save that for next piece. This idea aims to explore or maybe even endlessly define and characterize wine and the relationship she can have with someone seeking such. More and more, I frustrate quite vocally with people and the industry that just sees wine as something to pour, something to sell, some bit of fucking inventory.
is narrative maze.
Trying to wake up. Last day in Field Sales. Keeping wine mind moving, back and forth from tasting room to vineyard, to me at a table writing about wine as I do. Charging watch, wallet, phone, coffee and #pozvibez water flask on desk. On clock in little less than 30. Thinking of getting breakfast from market in building. Not sure how good it’ll be, but I’m a little famished unexpectedly.
People around me talking, and needing quiet. A vineyard walk, early, slow, before the grapes are pulled on a day of harvesting. Seriously can’t think with the voices around me. My fault for letting them attach to my senses. Glass of red, view, sun going down…. Painting a fictive frame in head, me waking at 4 or just after and writing what to do for day… walk vineyard, sample barrels, go visit a friend who’s also a winemaker and taste through some lots with him. He calling me the night previous for an opinion, or asking if I’d offer mine one some lots and micro-lots he just racked.
Finally quiet. But I’m still in that scene. I lean back in chair for a minute. Then distracted by desk drawers needing to be cleaned and cleared out pre-transfer. Next week. Where I go to B2B division and show very much what I can do in sales and speaking, and brand representation. And, I still realize and appreciate, this all came from wine. I speak of Sonic as I do wine, wines that connect with me and that speak to me in some forward and intimate set of notes.
Tomorrow in the tasting room. Invited more people than I can re-count. Not to sell them, but speak to them. Share. Something about wine and them all collecting in that room, on that property.
Waiting for the wine story, my wine story, to again amplify.