11:40a. Clocking in late. Errands, I blame them. Hate tasks that “have to” be done. But, life entails this. Topic next, the wine glasses I saw yesterday with lipstick prints. I asked myself, “Who were these characters? Wish I had some bit of information from which to expand.” But I don’t. Ideas I have to either let go, or shove into the cellar. Painful for a writer. Morning mocha to the right. Excited about the re-shoot of the Cellars of Sonoma interview. Stan and JK may show up. Would be nice, perhaps make it even more lively than our first take, if that’s possible. Scott has a nonpareil mien in front of the lens. Need to mirror his movements, energy.
A great day yesterday in the Room. Me, Mark, JK, Cam, Stan, Cara, the crew that could run any Room in this valley or the other. This Memorial Day weekend provided quite of bit of material, Notes, for these eyes to ingest. One new aspect of winery life (not just the Room, mind you) that unfolds and ferments with more wonder each day, gossip. How people love to talk, about each other, about other wineries, about the wines they themselves are forced to sell when in fact it them repels. And, don’t let me forget, the exchanges on the other side of the counter. I’m not going to delivery this with negative notes, sour savor. This element is Human, and endlessly captivating, stirring.
I now see those tracks left by the purplish-red shade as a curious character. She has done something with her life. A boutique store owner in Marin. No boyfriend, but does welcome occasional company, thrills. Frequents SF, Northbeach and sometimes the Marina, but tires of the same routine. Thinks about selling her shop to open a tasting Room/wine shop in Tiburon. But how would she afford it? She didn’t have investors help with her current front, and she didn’t want any for a future leap. She sips, reassures herself that all will fall into order.
1:04p. How does time live with itself, passing us with such indifference? Starting to hunger. What’s a conducive writer’s lunch? Sandwich? Chinese? Maybe there’s no such things as a writer’s lunch. A glass of Chardonnay, and a chicken salad: the writer’s lunch, maybe. But, not what sounds good to this blocked author.
Speaking of white wine(s), I need to go on a hunt for some, like that Eric Ross blend I reviewed not too long ago. Know where lunch is to be acquired. Be back...
4:19p. Settled on the classic tuna salad sandwich. Stepping away from this computer screen for pen and paper, the ink, line/sheet. A sip of vintage. Do I have any Chard downstairs to sip before the Cellars meeting? Don’t think so. Off to the Composition book. These rimes won’t leave me alone. Love it. Heard someone at Starbucks use the word “convivium” in a conversation with her friends. Would have eavesdropped, but they were at the first table, to the left, as soon as one enters. Would have looked odd.
Tonight, hunting for the oddest of blends, the most rooted, and coherent.
11:29p. Home from my interaction with Cellars. Can’t thank them enough, as wobbly as I be. Couple more lines, and I retire. Come morrow, to the Alex Valley. Let it be known, don’t think you can attach strings to an author like Mike. Let it be also known, much respect to JK and Stan, for their solidarity towards the literary, me. vinoLit4ever! This Rhone blend, a sown send.