Thursday, January 21, 2010

Dizzy. Storms, Wine, the Whole Mikey Thing.

sat.1-16-2010: Running out of ideas for ways the date can look. Lazy day. Needed. Especially when you consider it’s back to teaching next week. Must say, I am a little eager to be back in that room. Have some ideas this time w/English 90. Going to season my lectures in a very engaging and unique, creative way. Still need to get some stuff off my old computer. No need to stress, I’m telling my Self. Slow, steady. Can’t rush with this leviathan that is technology.
Just transferred one of the bigger documents, one of most crucial. Didn’t write at all yesterday, which was good. I needed the day off. Tonight, finishing a poem I started today. Planning on circulating it to mags, contests even.
Lots of rain expected for the coming week, and even beyond. Sent out short story #3, “Rush to Resolution,” today. Have about ten submissions out in the literary world. No rejections yet. See how long that lasts. Back in the Room for the morrow. Most of my short story collection will be centered around the Room, and the other room, the classroom. Not sure what to expect this semester. English 90. It can be rewarding, right? Of course. Need to change my attitude. Roger was right, that is my biggest problem. I can hear cars outside, the wheels whisking through soaked streets, the drops in the gutter, or drain, on the other side of this wall in front of me.
Was thinking again of my restaurant, or wine bar. I would offer a champagne menu, or pairing options. Was reading today about a world-famous chef. He was interviewed, and the way he spoke of cuisine, and menu composition, wine, apps. All fascinating. The passion was humbling. Writing for a wine magazine, a wine & food publication of any kind, hmmmm....

11:21pm. Have a bit of a goal for the Self. Taste a different wine everyday, and write a detailed review. Has to produce a ripple or two, three. We’ll see, dearest reader. I will review a different bottle, from a different winery each day. Have to be as inclusive and comprehensive as I’m able. Already have a couple candidates in my scope. Napa, Sonoma, Monterey, Paso Robles, Santa Barbara, Lodi. I will spread where ever the budget me releases.
11:29pm. If 31 is what I will be, then what can I do? I’ll simply continue carelessly, and artistically as me, Mikey. Mike. I’m Mike. You know, the Mikey thing never was agreeably till Alice entered my days. Now, don’t mind so much. Students, though, not welcomed to call me by such. What should be my first bottle for this organized and systematic review? How about that 2001 Barbaresco that my buddy Mike bought me some time ago? Sounds lovely. That is what is scheduled for the Monday that this way sails.
Just checked my voicemail. A message from a student, disappointed that he has not received his paper in the mail with my comments. He also stated that he’s been in contact with other students from class, concerned that I haven’t responded to their emails. This student is from SCC. I don’t teach there anymore. Hence, I don’t check that email any longer. The student who actually had the gall to call, received an A. Why is there a problem that he hasn’t received his paper? I said that last semester was my last. This one approaching, Spring 2010, truly my final.

Sunday Jan. 17th, ’10 - Today in the Room, insane, to be modest, not entirely honest. So busy I only took two Room notes. One young lady was scouting locations for her wedding. Tired, almost too much exhaustion about me to write.
The wine I’m reviewing tonight, 2005 Malbec, from St. Francis, McCoy Vineyard. Overall, I’m rating it a B. The nose and front of the palate are something of note, but the mouthfeel and mid-palate, and back-palate/finish seem lackluster in presence. Is it drinkable? Yes, quite. But it is not of excellent or remarkable quality. I would expand in this review, I’m just too tired to do so. My goal, to review three different wines a week. They can be of the same varietal, AVA, vintage, anything else, just not from the same winery. That is my beginning requisite.
Last night I had a Sonoma County Zin from Sebastiani. 2006, I think. It was great. Not going to assign it a grade, but it remains in my thoughts. Might take a trip out to Seb on Tuesday, assuming my syllabi are done. Want to prepare a few lectures, additionally. Hoping this term is more agreeable than last. I’m giving teaching one last mission. That final mission, is Spring 2010.
Today, the first of 5 storms hit, is still hitting. I’m excited about this impending precipitation. Rain is music, therapy. Each day of rainfall is its own lecture. You know, I used to view rain as a bother. I’ve grown out of narrow mindedness. Thinking I should jump back to that Sebastiani Zinfandel. Tired of this malady Malbec.
Okay, sipping the Seb. Tasted better last night. Might dump this. Listening to some trip-hop I downloaded before winter break. I effortlessly imagine this playing at my wine bar. Lights low, red, purple. The goal of my spot, relaxation. Responsible retreat. Not sure I would serve hard alcohol. Yes, I have a certain prejudice with liquor. Wine, beer, no objection. When you serve liquid of 40% or more, even slightly less, you could have a different stage, perhaps an unpleasant one. Wine and beer, some port, that’s it. Just thought of an interesting name, “whoso.” I take this from Emerson’s line “Whoso be a man must be a nonconformist,” from his landmark essay “Self-Reliance.” Think I’m clocking out. Nothing in this author left. Peace and thought. -Mike

Monday January 18, 2010. Only fifteen minutes to write. I’m off to the Room. Outside, another round of tempest pounds Yulupa Avenue, Santa Rosa, much of the Bay. Hopefully, it won’t be too busy. Tonight, I must finish my syllabi. Planning on having a test run tomorrow, in terms of when I wake up. Mondays and Wednesdays I have a section that starts at 7:30a. The rain is really coming down now. I’m actually a little spooked. So loud, forcefully, vengeful. Ugh, if only I could just stay inside and write all day. Anyway, yes. Tomorrow I will act as though it is a M or W, waking at 5:40a. I will drive out to NVC, to make copies of my required documents. Also, need to write lectures for the first day, week. You should hear this rain. Mother Nature is pissed, about something. I can feel my adrenaline tumble in all my channels. Nine minutes till departure.
California is a funny state. It’s like a gameboard. Depending on where you land, you have a certain existence, certain encounters, periods of development. I don’t know if I see my Self ever living in another state. I would like to one day have either an apartment or condo in Manhattan (I know, dream on Mikey...) I don’t think I’ve seen anything, in terms of the world. Yes, I went to Paris last year, but that’s not what I mean. What I’m addressing is just venturing, pen and pad, and a bag of curiosity. No plans.
Five minutes. The mocha is wearing off. Only have to put in five hours. I think the first lecture will address intention, what the student wants, a certain promotion of sovereignty. I still will maintain my defiant nature in the classroom, at whichever institution I instruct. Giving this ONE MORE TRY. Also want to preview, in lecture 1, Vonnegut’s “How to Write with Style,” showing students there is only one YOU. And that ‘YOU’ must develop its own style, voice. Write from your heart. Cheesy as it sounds, that’s the best way to establish your Self. Time for departure.
8:34p. Been home for a couple hours. Will upload my second wine review tomorrow. Drinking the review bottle right now. Can’t divulge any more than that. Today in the Room, took more notes that I ever have, I think. All I can share right now, I work with an incomparable crew of colleagues. If I had a set of co-workers even slightly resembling past workplaces of mine, I wouldn’t even give fucking notice, I would walk out. I wonder how many work at wineries with a deplorable cast.
Need to finish everything tomorrow. Syllabi, manuscript objectives, organization of the workplace here in my domicile. What if this semester is triumphant, restores my confidence in education, today’s matriculants? What if reveals the joys of the other room, the classroom of the community college. What if that room coaxes me to award it a capital, becoming a Room, no longer a room? The second Room?
Really realizing the reality that resonates in the Room. There is a book, maybe more, in there. Perhaps I shouldn’t shoot for a short story collection now. Quite plausible that now is the most advantageous artery to the novel. Don’t want, or I should say wouldn’t want, it to be obnoxiously long. To start, Mike Madigan isn’t enough interesting a character to write some Harry Potter-stretched opus. I estimate me to be deserving of about 140-150 pages, max.
Reading over this “blog.” Noticing typo over typo. Angry with Self. But why? I’m Human.
Thought I erased a huge portion of this log, but I didn’t save, thankfully. Fucking devilish technology. Anyway, the typos. This is a log, a journal, something I’m choosing to share. Critics that want to critique, speak your cynicism in the street, devil. Need to diffuse my disdain. I sprint to subsist as a poised person of the pen. So calm down, Mikey.
Not sure how much more I can type. Won’t fabricate, I’m completely depleted. Going to fetch another pour.
The last of spills for this p.m. before me. Someone else told me that I should consider writing a vampire novel. Are you fucking joking me? I should write this, that. I should market my writing this way, that. Everyone, shut your fucking bill. My extremism with this Craft can never be commanded. This latest glass, complimenting my vigor, I think. But what do I know? What if I have the same despicable entitlement as my students? Put a stake in my ticker, please, if that is so. Be 2010 the year of my venom, the ANTILEGAL’s annexation.
The TV on. I should turn it off. All the pop culture programing, poison. Keep typing, with a turmoil of tenacity. Antithesis of idol, me. My entries, hopefully, like a flirtatious viticultural concoction. Struggling to 1k. You know what, I shouldn’t have to hold my Self to a word amount. Quality over...nevermind. I’m beginning to see wine as more of a aesthetic contortion than a beverage. What does that mean? Fuck if I know. Forgive me for being too Human. Are the pours catching up with me? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not to be acknowledged, read. I dare critics to accost me.
Just turned to A&E. Watching some ghost hunter show. Wow, this is comical. Usually this subject matter frightens me. But this, this program, humorous in a way that I have never known. This episode deals with a poltergeist. Is that what you call it? Anyway, someone reports seeing weird spectacles , shadows. Inflammatory descriptions, odd music and effects. Give me a break. I’m still watching, internally debunking such shows. Now they’re ripping up a wall, searching for what?
This topic tires me. Might go tasting tomorrow, after finalizing my syllabi, of course. I’m not trying to be a Robert Parker, anything like him. He’s a pretentious boner. I just want to link wine and writing in a manner that is both educating as well as enriching (yes, the two are not always synonymous).
Where’s the rest of this menacing torment that the forecast prognosticated? Hear nothing outside. Bored. Over 1k, in this doc, I’m certain. I should stop, but I don’t want to. Want to eviscerate certain wine club members in this entry, but I won’t. Watching the news sensationalizing the weather patterns now hitting CA. These news channels, so transparent with their intentions. Me, obvious as well, no better. Do I have intentions? Ummm....
The news, using the word “storm” in a callous and cavalier manner. Storms 1 through 5. Give me a break. These aren’t storms, they’re cells, at best. The jet stream is 250 mph. Please. That’s right, get your ratings, shameless goons.

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