Jack at baseball, Emma and Jack fed breakfast. Calm…. Reflection, focus on self. Third day in a row with a devoted selfie. Why… to see myself, further know myself I realized waiting for the the Nurse’s and my coffee at Peet’s Santa Rosa. She stay behind, watched Emma and Jack, me going there after leaving Jack at his baseball spot. Looks like a studio or some MPR off Pine.
10:36. Feeling fearless, strong, certain, motivated, aware and appreciative as I told the Nurse. Life telling me to move in a singular direction, pick one Road. Picked, easy. Seeing the eventual vineyard, and yes, that is the end-aim I thought last night toward the end of a tense 9ers-Packers playoff bout.
Where do I want the vineyard, what do I want to grow… no decision now, but I do want that Syrah project to happen, Terri’s Block. French Oak, 50% or more new, 18 months then bottle age for 6+ months after, maybe even 10 or a full year.
Wine isn’t just expression or people, or even love to me. It’s LIFE, and knowing that one day it ends. Thinking of Joan Didion and her piece following her husband’s death… life changes in an instant, I think she said…. YES. So, I Compose in the Now, with no regret or fear or anxiety, and little editing. Taking nothing back. Writing in the spirit of hip-hop, impromptu poetics and narration… true BEAT. The Beat to keep and from this spontaneity and celebration I’m complete in the freest leap.
10:51 Nurse messaging me something sweet and I’m distracted, pleasantly. I know where this is going, with her and with the MSP, me in the current consistency and composition… no faith attribution, only accumulation.
And yes I used that word. FAITH. In me, my family, the Nurse my story with her. Invincible, just my current sentiment.
Starting another journal, vowing to write the whole day and into the evening, even when Henry is asleep in my room. No desk needed, will just sit on the floor.
Still Nursing my latter. Feeling stubborn, trenchant, militant to be honest. I will have that goddamn vineyard. There is no negotiating. Wine is the runway upon which the writer WILL touchdown.
Forgot it’s ’24 almost, wrote ’23.
Jack at baseball, Emma and Jack fed breakfast. Calm…. Reflection, focus on self. Third day in a row with a devoted selfie. Why… to see myself, further know myself I realized waiting for the the Nurse’s and my coffee at Peet’s Santa Rosa. She stay behind, watched Emma and Jack, me going there after leaving Jack at his baseball spot. Looks like a studio or some MPR off Pine.
10:36. Feeling fearless, strong, certain, motivated, aware and appreciative as I told the Nurse. Life telling me to move in a singular direction, pick one Road. Picked, easy. Seeing the eventual vineyard, and yes, that is the end-aim I thought last night toward the end of a tense 9ers-Packers playoff bout.
Where do I want the vineyard, what do I want to grow… no decision now, but I do want that Syrah project to happen, Terri’s Block. French Oak, 50% or more new, 18 months then bottle age for 6+ months after, maybe even 10 or a full year.
Wine isn’t just expression or people, or even love to me. It’s LIFE, and knowing that one day it ends. Thinking of Joan Didion and her piece following her husband’s death… life changes in an instant, I think she said…. YES. So, I Compose in the Now, with no regret or fear or anxiety, and little editing. Taking nothing back. Writing in the spirit of hip-hop, impromptu poetics and narration… true BEAT. The Beat to keep and from this spontaneity and celebration I’m complete in the freest leap.
10:51 Nurse messaging me something sweet and I’m distracted, pleasantly. I know where this is going, with her and with the MSP, me in the current consistency and composition… no faith attribution, only accumulation.
And yes I used that word. FAITH. In me, my family, the Nurse my story with her. Invincible, just my current sentiment.
Starting another journal, vowing to write the whole day and into the evening, even when Henry is asleep in my room. No desk needed, will just sit on the floor.
Still Nursing my latte. Feeling stubborn, trenchant, militant to be honest. I will have that goddamn vineyard. There is no negotiating. Wine is the runway upon which the writer WILL touchdown.
