Sipping iced coffee. Put ice in the coffee I made last night, in the tumbler. Class in a bit over an hour. Went for a 4-mile run, and feel off. I need to run in the morning, period. Have to force self, and forcefully, with a true and renewed and imbued force. Family outside, readyContinue reading “4:50pm”
Sat down in break room/arcade/snack shop, immediately started writing. Told self I’d grade papers on break, but not after the busy morning I’ve had. I very much deserve this meditation, this collection in words, with my paragraphs paired with leftover pizza and sparkling water wife me bought at Costco, yesterday? No. Saturday. Anyway, I thinkContinue reading “Day 11 – “
kills any blocks. Freewriting, in-the-moment prose…. journal habits, practice, and maintenance. Writing and constant notes, constant reaction and conversation on your work. Comment below with your email and a couple lines about yourself and your writing life, if you’re interested in enrolling. -Mike
This Cabernet is gentle, airy and rose-prone… teaching me I don’t have to appease anyone, honor any expectations… so I forward in wine’s bind, call. I’ll more later write.
Tomorrow morning, the writer’s a runner, running at least 8 miles on treadmill and coming home to be daddy and get babies school-ready. Then, tasting at another property with master sommelier person in the morning, first thing. In the morning. The book is done, I’m convinced. Searching for title. What’s the book about. IT’s aContinue reading “One last glass of wine. And this is the last. “
First thought was health, wellness and total wellness about my character and story and what I thought of course was writing, and singularity as I obnoxiously and tirelessly stressed to students this past semester. Got a mocha, but no eats or one of those breakfast sandwiches I usually am self-stroked into buying. Note: NOT. THIS.Continue reading “And the morning… the morning… oh, THE MORNING. “
tomorrow last of Spring ’18, and this glass of the St. Francis OVZ, my last. Tom Wolfe died today, and again I’m reminded.. curt, life is a trash compactor wall. So I sip and scribble and meditate over day at winery, where I wondered how many times I can wipe down a counter, how manyContinue reading “Two weeks till 39,”
Pages and Pages. Your story is loudly and proverbially significant. Write it. Write YOU. The plentitude.
Not sipping during day. Anticipating what wine… what wine to taste, the wine’s philosophy and language scoping my immediacy, me right here in the kitchen writing about wine, while not tasting it at all today. Not sipping with guests, making the writer more focused, more observant, more creatively defiant in the tasting room— noting everythingContinue reading “On lunch break, in kitchen, thinking of what wine to open later. “
on the wine train…