from a journal

Notes to self, for today, what I’m regarding very much as a class, a lecture to me. Then lecture from the day to students approaching. Submitting grades this morning, technically a but under 8 hours late, I said to self, “Yes, now, now is when it has to become what you see it being, what you know your story should be.”

Teaching self to teach self, again. My personal legend if you would, is all centered around learning, teaching, writing and words, teaching and others’ words, pages, how we learn from them. Joan Didion and her book, Year of Magical Thinking, how she wrote it and what caused her to write it. Death of her husband… Wish I had the ms on me, but don’t. Have Cork Dork, instead. But even that, could be, should be studied especially by me being the wine bloke I am. Last night with a Zin, and the Zin educating me on my sister-in-law’s words and urgency of writing about wine. And that one time I had dinner with Dad at Monti’s, where he asked me what I’d rather do, write or teach for the rest of my life. He knew and still knows, anyone who knows me knows, the answer before I voiced, WRITE. Then write about wine, you like doing that, he reasoned and further realized. I know, I know… And I write on learning and knowledge, on knowing Now, as I do wine. All the dynamics, all the intricacies of the scene I’m in. You learn from that, you learn from the wine, you learn from the winery, its home.