9:27p. Night of writing ahead. First, a Rosato. Then, ’07 Oakville Merlot. Great Napa mission today. And see? I don’t hate Napa. I love Napa’s wines. Hot here, in the studio. Great run today, about an hour. Tomorrow, escalated ardor in pace, form. Around Spring Lake, before the temperature peril. While running, I thought about NewWineGig, my sister’s promotion, Sunriver, Paris of course. At a couple curbsides, I forgot I was running. Thought about pages, editing my book, getting a new car, what my first house’ll look like. My co-worker’s house, which I for the first time visited tonight after tasting mission, was gorgeous. I could see mySelf, a writer like I in such a quaint castle. Secluded, safe, sweet.
Tonight’s session needs to be poetic, musical, whimsical, as I mentioned earlier. Going to be blending words like the more flipped winemakers amalgamate varietals, cooperages. Need to go check on the Rosato. Is it cold enough ... No. Another Racer, meantime. Looking through that book on France last night made me realize that I not just must make return to Paris, but pruriently prance about this planet. Feel like an unleashed student, again. Want to learn more, see/experience more than I can handle, write. It would be a sapid challenge to attempt trapping journalistically all I called.
Not yet ready for the Rosato. Entry2follow. 2010, Napa Valley. Enjoying the session too much. Didn’t do any editing today, don’t plan on placing any corrections tonight, either. Miss pouring in the tasting Room, a bit. Really what I miss are the character, and some wine club members. All day tomorrow, to me. What about a drive to the beach, Bodega Bay? Can’t even remember the last time I did that. I think right after I graduated SSU. Seems like 4ever ago.
And, alas, the Rosato is at side. Perfect pairing with the humbling humidity of this upstairs study. Nose: tropical, citrus; melon, bright cherry, shy grapefruit, spacious grassiness. Mouth: all fruit; an island vacation; an away. Just what I need, what many writers need. Tonight’s mission, as suggested by Mom: Calm, Equilibrium, homeostatic Literary recline. What my readers need, from me.
10:29p. Kelly, my old character, on mind. Why? Unanticipated whirl, twirl. What do I do with this, her? While sipping one of the reds today, at the Napa tasting, she landed with entrapping nonlinearity, spread throughout fantasy, rationale. This night, not vacation. It’s gathering, hunting for profitable passage. As some wine steelheads want to profit from winemaker fruitions, I glide to strive from mine, pages. And for the record, as much as I detest that phrase, I find it despicable how so many profit from winemaker time, session. That’s mostly what motivates Mike to Self-publish.
A new Rosato note, and maybe I’m stretching for validity piquant: raspberry/moist maple. If I were to attach a scene to this bottle, I’d Self-seat on a beach. Alone. Just me, breeze, unfamiliar trees, ones I’ve only on a postcard seen. Another glass, as I need a taste of vacation. And I have it here. Now. On this page. In Literary play. No matter, nowhere2B. That’s what vacation is. What vinoLit intends 2be. Time, running by like bullying bulls. Me, solitary. Empowering, not at all scary. Rosato, a-lot-o ...