My Friday night, sipping an ’08 Cabernet.  Not sure what to say.  Today, many lines from visitors.  Ready for bed.  Looking over the notes on the little pages; not wasting them here, on “blog.” The first chapbook, ready for release into readership wild.  Need another glass.  Maybe I’ll type another verse.  That’s all I could think of today, on my 1 tour to the mountain’s top.  Tomorrow morning, setting alarm for 5:15am.  Need be awake earlier than us’[ual].  3 songs a day, starting tomorrow.  Don’t want to be on that stage, for a reading, or concert, having material dry spells.

So, this Cabernet…  Somewhat what I envision in my future’d style.  But, I need a little more electricity.  This one, seems a bit sedated.  Oh, speaking of winemaking.. Kaz told me last night that we are 100% on for making our SB this vintage.  He told me at the end of his daughter’s wedding reception, after I approached him.  At such occasion, of course, I drank mostly beer.  But either way, I have 1 winemaking project LOCKED-in for this vintage.  Need to meet with the sis professor, see what we’ll be doing, if anything.  Why do I want to keep making wine?  To BE with wine, the varietals I love.  Not merely represent them, sell them [like those slimy swamp infections at the box].  I want to always be on the Artist’s side of this borderline.

In this last glass, I’m like a commuter with a FasTrak.  Scurry to the next day, with my morning mocha at my ink cannon’s right.  Still haven’t had my glass..  Just took my first sip, in a couple minutes.  Seems to be losing a bit of its spunk.  Need to visit St. Francis, either tomorrow or day next.  That Malbec, that Meritage.. calling.  But can’t spend money.  Not now.  Need my business in business flight patterns.  I would rather not be, than be one of those social fleas speaking of what they WOULD do if they’d done something prior, or embellishing in what they do; or just bolding lying.  I’ll soon be in my office, either on the Embarcadero or nearer by.  Writing way to seat with view.  Dismissing all critical you’s.


2012, My Vintage, refocused into focus

5/11 — Went for photo shoot in Glen Ellen, then backtracked to Kenwood.  Didn’t go this morning, as I’d hoped, when my alarm slithered into my drums at 6:20am.  My alarm did wake me, and I remember thinking, “Okay, I’m awake, I can do this.” But didn’t.  Went back to sleep, and the next I know Alice enters holding Little London.  Haven’t reviewed the photos from today’s drive yet, but will momentarily.  Much coming into focus, with 2012 and these 2 blogs.  1Stop, I’m seeing, will be photography, with minimal copy.  bottledaux, my Literary roots in full unfettered practice.  More photography for tomorrow morning, after I write on 128’s side.  (1:09pm)

Off to visit Grandma.  She very much anticipates Kerouac’s visits.

10:37pm.  Once back, I went for a respectable walk/jog.  Useful thought during my randomly speeded dashes: submit to contests, lit mags, again.  Need to get a new issue of P&W, as I forgot to renew my subscription, and I can’t now since I’m at the end of the checking’s allowance.  On a topic completely separate, I’m furious with those using wine and its world as a light for self.  Some hosting TV shows, or webcasts, podcasts, website-related shows of whatever ridiculously comical shape, for sakes of popularity.  These stench wagons have no clue what wine really entails, and they have not even a microscopic clue as to what wine’s production entails.  They talk about terroir like its fashionable, and use varietals like they collectively constitue a flashily secret tongue.  Pathetic.  Wine deserves more respect.  And, I’ll say again, if you’re such a wine prophet, loving wine so dramatically, know what characteristics, what “nuances” make a master wine, then make your own.  Show us what you have in your trick purse.


11:59pm.  Clocking out.  Will give early rise another try tomorrow.  Pleasant eve, and Peace … Had Chardonnay tonight, by the way.  A 2011, if you can believe.  Nice, surprisingly full body, with no ML, and stainless.  Must be the careful care with which the winemaker cared for his fruit, juice.

freewrite 13FEB 12 — 2nd sit

My standalone verses are starting to collect.  Think I have some material I can throw together for a quick release, but I’m not making any hasty executions.  Tomorrow’s meeting at winery, in thoughts.  Thinking of how I want to approach it.  Quite excited, really.  Love their wines, the grounds, especially the history, their caves.  Really should do a tasting while there, if I can.  See if I can develop pervading understandings of what’s being poured in their Room.  Also want to fit in a run.  Maybe before my visit.  I’ll see…

Looking through these documents, my Comp Books, other writings, I have enough for probably dozens of chapbooks.  That’s all I can afford to publish, at present.  You understand.  Right, reader?  Just want to scribble in my journal right now, sorry.  My attention span, weaning.  That’s alright, though.  I’ve had enough of this buttoned portable monster.  Time for a canvas switch.  Kelly would agree, assuredly.  She’s always outside technology, with her colors, brushes, tools.  Keep thinking of what Capote said, about typing not being writing at all.  Yes, time to shut down the monster.

One last thought.  Probably no shock: WINE.  Want to start building a collection, as I research my 3 varietals.  Going to put Nebbiolo on the back burner, for now.  Not sure if I’m all that sincerely smitten with the grape.  Not yet.  Tasted one quite stunning at Kaz, yes.  But I want to taste some more, see what I find in the way of tastable notes, structure, pair-ability.  Another thing about wine that hooks me at this late hour, is color.  Not that much of an issue with the Sauv Blanc on my list.  But the Syrah and Cab…  Need to see what others are doing.  So much out there to taste, should probably just dive into it tomorrow.

Journal Jumping, to Stab Certain Habits

No more starting projects only to leave them half, or less-than.  So how did I do that?  Ditched the novel, started another one.  Come on, it’s funny.  And yes, I really did.  Due date remains same: 201 pages by 4/1/12.  I swear to you, I’m laughing.  Writing in an bizarrely caffeinated haze.  Feels incredible.  That has to be artistic, doesn’t it?

Over 1k for the day.  Not sure how I feel.  Dizzy, honestly.  Jumping back and forth.  Diagonally, reversed, inside-out.  Sick.  Think this is more of a writer’s blog, I think, than a wino’s.  (2/3/12)

2/5/12, Sunday.  Super Bowl behind us, time for supreme page and winemaking focus.  Journal jumping could pose a threat to this new novel.  Not so new as I’ve never completed one.  So, this novel.  Or, book.  Not sure how fictional it is.  Tasted a great deal of wine yesterday at St. Francis, and today at Kaz.  Winemaking strategies already being mapped out for 2012, by Katie and I.  And me, by mySelf.  Sticking to my plotted varietals of Sauvignon Blanc, Syrah, and Cab Sauv.  But, after tasting an amazing Nebbiolo at Kaz today, thinking I might have that be the 4th.  Small, small production.  Maybe two barrels (About 50 css).  Have it only available to family and friends, wine club, such.

Looking at the three notebooks below my forearms as I type, filled with sheets for this new book.  Might be up late tonight, as I used to when a student, rush typing a paper at the last of last minutes.  Today’s wines, like a reminder of how necessary passion is in an artist’s life.  Wine embodies life, beauty, conviction and curiosity.  I think wine has saved me, my writing, in a number of ways.  Thinking of that quote I read a while back, about all writers having one primary subject, or theme in their work.  Can’t remember who owns those words, or the idea.  And, it’s not that important who authored it.  But, I now realize that, other than Writing itSelf, wine would have to stand as mine.  As I’ve always said, Wine is Literary, is Literature.  And I still hold that position.  It’s more than simply cemented.  It’s perceptively fixated.  A vision immovably.  Forever.

See mySelf up till about 1a, or 2, typing.  Just as, I’m sure, Capote did with his works, especially ‘Cold Blood’.  Isn’t such behavior what separates “professional” writers from recreational ones, or ones merely wishing?  I don’t know.  Either way, I’ll be up late tonight.  Book: DUE 4/1/12.  WITHOUT FAIL.  “The ultimate inspiration is the deadline,” said Nolan Bushnell.  Couldn’t agree more.  Maybe I should have another Diet Coke.  Or, maybe one of those flavored sparkling waters.  When I was an undergrad, a fellow student in my Literary Analysis seminar told me to try drinking water if I needed to stay up late, in place of caffeine.  I remember he told me the morning something was due, I think a 500-word response or criticism on a short work by one of Professor Coleman’s gathered authors.  He, my class colleague, said “Try water, that’ll always work.” Haven’t tried it since.  Guess tonight’ll be the first.  Quite excited, really.  Tonight will be a test for me, as a writer.  And, plainly, as a Human.  See how convinced I am of my Creative “convictions.”

So, with my wine still in its barrel, finishing its ML, I wait.  Wait.  The one part about winemaking of which I don’t classify mySelf a fan.  The waiting.  What does that take?  Patience.  Not know for that.  But, I don’t have a choice.  Will just write my way through it, listing dreams, visions of the result.  Will write my way through it.  To it.  “It,” being my bottled result.  The WINE.  (9:17pm)