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Tonight’s types– Chardonnay, Cabernet. Not in a novel mood. Tonight’s one of those evenings where I just want to write freely, truly enjoy my truest of styles. The chocolate accent’s more present tonight than 24 hours past. Keep forgetting tomorrow’s my “day off.” Wish it truly were. Teaching in eve. Have papers to grade. Behind, just like times old. Keep stressing about writing this Kelly book. Why? How will that get it finished any quicker? She wouldn’t want that, I know. Compelled to take another sip, but resisting, holding in my types. Looking at one of the pictures I took today, of the leaves, clusters. Love this time, during vintage. But they have to be picked. Why is that tearing at sensors under shell? Hard to tell. Need music, but don’t want to wake little Kerouac. Just the reason I need my own office, why I strive to one day one be obligated, EXPECTED, to write 8 hours a day.. not subscribe to clock spots, another’s druthers. Now I’ll sip, celebratory, knowing certain curtains don’t dictate what’s the version certain.
A photograph I posted to the winery’s site received quite the response, today. Photography, something I surely need pursue. Like Kaz. Speaking of my brother, sacrificed my lunch to pay his base a visit. May not be making that SB with him. May be a Cab, or Petite Sirah. Not sure I want to produce a PS. I’m not passionate about the varietal. At all. Has to be Cab. And I’ll do the Chardonnay with Professor Kate, I hope. Have to make wine where I can. Maybe I can get a handful of leftover clusters from the winery, write a barrel or 2. Has to be Syrah, that’s what I’d want from that estate. Have touched my books in some time, only been tasting, toughening my palate, if you will. Still don’t feel like it’s my Friday. This Friday, in home by Self. Not meeting coworkers anywhere. Staying in castle, opening an SB, Chard, Syrah, Cab.. a mock-whoso tasting Room flight. Can’t wait. And food? May simply have apps.. some cheese, crackers, veggies.. but I have to get writing done. SIGNIFICANT progress. I want some substantial cemented in 1 sitting. Like all the artists I admire.. Poe, Pac, Plath. Feeling reflective by this empty glass, wondering if I should add 1 more varietal to my lineup. But is there another I enjoy to such a point? What about a blend.. of Cab, Syrah? I’ll do whatever I want, I’m thinking. I know, I should be working on a book project, my novel. But I needed a freewrite. My former students would understand, especially those from that Fall ’09 1A section [peace, love].
Then, the night ends. If I wake early tomorrow, like 5AM-something, I could have that session I did months ago. The Barleycorn effort. All for the novel. That Self-published paragon manuscript. Glad I’m done with glass, and that I filled that filtered water carafe in fridge. Done typing, again. Not natural. Long 4 pen, ink. What Plath grabbed.. what Pac stocked.
Tasted the final draft of a ’10 Old Vine Zinfandel today, with winemaker. Tomorrow, I’ll be on the estate at 7am, possibly earlier, to capture first day of harvest. Doing so for company, as well my own sovereign efforts. First day of project R last night, couldn’t have gone better. Already longing for second session. Just have to simplify, if I had one critique of Self. Want to work from a set draft of lecture notes, not three to four, five, sheets as I did last night. Felt almost over-prepared. Either way, I’m on the road to Stanford, with my challenges of institutional “requirements,” and rather antagonization students 2write for Self; wanting to do well in class for themSelves.
Cameras charging, before this first day of picking. Learned today–well, actually experienced–the value of gum arabic on a wine. Found it doesn’t compromise oenological or varietal integrity, but refines it, stabilizes the wine. Have learned more at this winery for my winemaking pursuits, path, than I have anywhere else. Except for Katie. Tomorrow, first fruit off vine.. and what will this do for me? A number of fruitions, on a number of fronts. Journalistically, Literarily; my winemaking studies, knowledge of wines I represent, sell. More than anything, though, I have to admit: I want the story.. I want the footage. I’m a writer before anything else, so tomorrow I’m an independent journalist, in a proverbial material pot.
Time, 10:04pm. Should get into bed, soon. Sipping what remains of this Sierra Nevada Torpedo, thinking of what else’s ahead. project R, session 2, going to be more of a linear lecture. But again, I should be so quick to scold Self. The first lecture’s always a bit tangential as there’s so much to lay before students. A couple of them stayed after adjourning, telling me how excited they are with the material, my style. Took quite a bit of notes during session, as I always used to do. One quote from a student, about Ms. Plath’s entry I selected for reading, succeeding exercise: “…cynical encouragement…” Told her that she had the first quote of the semester. Thinking I should keep a tally, record of valuable offerings from students. That’s one of my more fruitful, useful, pedagogical entertainments, I think. Each student, or those that participate [would love to have all on list, but some just refuse to be part of progress], having a notable saying logged for future usage, or just appreciation. Next class, there’ll be even more inquiry hooks for those seated; more interaction, more exchange of ideas. More passion, more onus. So glad 2B back. Feel alive again. Free.
Closing 2nite’s session/sitting. Need to make sure I have everything ready for tomorrow. Batteries, charged. Phone as well. Video camera. But, even more importantly.. my little pages; my condensed, quaint little notebook that I always carry with me to that tasting Room. Now, it’ll be in vineyard. A true journalist, tomorrow. And I’m thinking, tomorrow could be the same type of major step that project R seems 2B. Interesting.
This’ll be the only prose entry for the night. In fact, I’m not letting my Self post past this. All rhymes, lines into Comp Book. That’s what real Literary figures do. That’s what I urged my students do, and what I will, should I return to classRoom. Not much to record from tasting Room, today. One big group, 30+, at day’s beginning. That’s it. However, I do find mySelf liking Chardonnay more. Kunde Estate’s shown me that it can be done with an impressive artful progression; a certain oenological refinement about its sip sequence. Tonight, I’m MAKING mySelf take winemaking notes. Bringing one text with me when I sit, yes, but I’m also going to jot any idea or fantasy that pops into this writer’s inner racking.
Distracted by little Kerouac’s calls. He’s tired, and I can relate. Going back to the ’11 Reserve Chard, tonight. I’m expecting it to be even more musical than it was last night. I can already taste my Chardonnay from the barrel. It’s a fairytale interpretation of the varietal–not too oaky, nor tinny, metallic. It’s dignified Burgundy voice.
11pm. Tired. Needing to just freewrite in my Comp Book. I’l be honest, I’m getting sick of this laptop, its devilish keys. And the social media element, wherever it lurks, anything but Literary. Stopped sips a couple minutes ago. Back on the berry sparkling, needing concentration. project R, prominently on radar over my next 2 off days. Staying focused on what project R embodies, what it could do for me, Little Jackie. Another item on my aims list, get back into running. On a level fervent [much I hate the word]. Did a couple sprints today at work, back forth from cave to tasting Room, to get pour buckets. Felt amazing, but it was lived short. So, in my mind, it’s not “running” at all. And on note random: not at all pleased with the way AV Winery was portrayed, incorporated, represented in that “reality.” Frankly, I found it dehumanizing, disgusting, and altogether deplorable. The Wine World, especially AV, deserves better than those media carnivore drones. And with that, I’m done. BRAVO, not worthy of my prose; certainly not even the most minuscule poetry pour. vinoLit4LIFE …
Saturday – Two mountain tours. A proposal, a rattlesnake, more high temps. My friend, who’s to be in UC Davis’ V&E program come Fall, taught me something about average temperatures, vintage to vintage, for comparative purposes. We’re all dazzled by how the fruit looks now, comparing it to 2007. But is it that impressive? Some have said, I’m told, that ’09 was more agreeable up to this point. Another opportunity presented itself to me. And, you probably expected, I can’t speak on it either. In time, I’ll tell. Tonight’s varietal, Chardonnay, if you can believe it. Think I may put it on the whose menu, but don’t know what style I’d want to produce. Definitely not stainless, surely not too much oak. Something to think about. Put in my winemaking journal, even though I see that log being blended into this one–bottleaux, stocking my winemaking jots.
Didn’t have much time to trap dialogue today. And that’s fine. Just enjoyed the thoughts, sight from mountain’s top. Tonight, after this entry, project R & verses. Haven’t felt this alive in a while, but I don’t want to write, or type, too much about it, injecting it with jinx. project R, going to reverse my existence in ways altogether animated; it promises to reduce excess domestication. And by “domestication,” I mean the days’ predictable patterns, not my post as father, husband. There’ll be adventurous variables, travel, sooner than a soon’s swoon. Going to sing my way to it, while in project R’s cyclical stumbles.
Need a beer, a break. Hoping to be back at the keys later. And I will. Just need something cold on palate, imagine Self on Croatia’s shores. Just realized, as I did in the 1 note I rushed today, that I’m behind on my writing aims with these little notepad notes like Arianna said she was on her articles; precisely the mentality driving me to write anything–let other writers know that others walk with them–that I DEFINITELY DO. Rhymes, poems, verses, song on brain, especially since my coworker’s daughter came to the winery to sing some covers, originals. Her voice, soft but persistent, with a colorfully unique, refreshing tonality. It was inspiring to me, especially after all the spoken word I listened to on the way to work. Music on mind, right now. SO I’m rushing through this assignment [this post] 2get2 song.
I’m turtle through corporate hurtles, but a cheetah with idea–
Ancient plaintiff, aided; re-scribble my fiddle. Looking for odd
words, but the cops heard.
Not throwing rhymes away on blog. And yes, it would be throwing them away. Time, 8:55pm, and I sit here hungry, tired, needing that Chardonnay. Think I do want to add that to whoso’s list. Going to sleep on it. Found some rhymes in my phone, hate when that happens. Don’t care how much of a pinch mySelf I find, I’m NEVER writing on that carcinogenic device again. More pen2pad, like painters [Kelly] living paint2canvas. If I’m an Artist, that need be my code.
Tomorrow, Friday, for me. I swear, these days never settle me; me, 4ever confused, turned-around. Brought my mobile office, that black work bag I carried to the box and when I was adjuncting, downstairs. After this, poetry only. Tonight, a meteor shower, I’ve heard. No time, as my own cosmos displays for my page play.