37: Tasting Day Notes, post-vino
Wine tasting. Always an option for day’s plan. Hit five different tasting Rooms. One of which, one of my favorites, Boekenoogen. Love how wines can take the shape they want, regardless of palate particularity. Back home tomorrow, back to regularity. Love vacation, get-away, sanctioned escape. Music in head, from the waves, fog shapes as sun descended.
One of my former students, in Paris. My city. Messaged her, told her I missed it. My journals, getting scattered, slightly lost, disorganized. But that’s my genre, my form, varietal. A blend of several blends. No type specificity, category. No simplification. Want it chaotic, as that’s where readers find Aesthetic melody, actual Creativity. Wrong? Talk to Picasso.
Understanding that a book may be a ways away. Or not. How do I go about this? Not sure I can Self-publish right now, other than on my blog, blogs. The new one, to start 1/1/2012, intended persist with even more Literary ferocity than this one. But, no matter my effort, singular disseminated piece, ALL writing catalyzes in journals. All journals, holding pages, as all barrels hold something for our glasses.
Think I’ll do Italian, tomorrow night. From Roberto’s. Never get tired of his dishes. That Spaghetti Calamari, sinful. So, should I open a red with that? Was hoping to decork the ’09 Chard I bought today, with tomorrow night’s back-home dinner. Maybe the vongole, then, white sauce. There’s an idea, before another one: my character opening up a small bistro; Parisian, with wine, beer, coffee, espresso, desserts, focus on small plates, lunch through dinner.
Sipping straight black coffee from my block’s Starbucks. Change of plans with my Self-publishing. What is it? Well, first, I don’t have the funding for such. Going to submit my pages, in hopes some publisher, any publisher will fund one of my mss [manuscripts]. Not going to bore you with the details of, so... Topic next. The ocean, Monterey. Miss it, dreadfully, already. Tomorrow, in the tasting Room, with the Kaz Krew. Looking to gather material for novel, further journals. All writing, from daily entries, diaries. This coffee pushing me, in sedating shocks, surprisingly. All the incredible wine I sipped over this 4-day weekend, holding me, bottles anchoring me in their reverb.
Another picture set in current sight, this Saturday afternoon, that view last night, from the Plaza patio, while sipping some imported beer, snacking on calamari with Jimbo. Need to get the blog up to speed. But, my tardiness in “uploads,” or “posts,” I believe quite warranted. At some point, even writers need vacations. Although, I did manage 1000 words yesterday, crossing last night, right before my attempt at a full night’s sleep.
Current song reminding me the year’s almost over, that this new book needs to see fruition. “No more stalls,” it orders. If I want to travel with these pages, in wine’s Literary vein, I need to have the book done, printed. Not giving publishers an option. They have to publish my book. And they will. Who doesn’t like wine, fiction, characters? Who doesn’t love Kelly? Who doesn’t love the Napa Roasting Company, Jewel’s paintings on the walls? Those mochas that save my life, efforts, often pushing me over 1500 words in under an hour.
Thinking tonight calls for the Boekenoogen Chardonnay, 2009, that Holly gifted yesterday. Such a sweet character, Ms. Holly. Finally had a chance to chat with John Boekenoogen himself, Holly’s father. What a lesson in viticulture, terroir, the ’09 vintage.