Starting off slow, but progressing forwardly. At home, sipping Ginger Ale, waiting for my glimmer’s rail. On the right trail, finally. People want me to respond, urging me to attack. But it’s not worth my time. THEY’re not worth my scribbles, certainly not a full page, or 300-word entry. So, I’m moving on. Today’s the first step in my lineup, the first pour in a sequence of movements fermented, written. Today’s SB, sipped at Oxbow, nothing moving, but still lively in its own right. And maybe that’s all it has to be. It’s own voice. Talking to me, for sakes of my writings, Self pages.
Frustrated with how the wine industry reshapes as it sees fit. It doesn’t care who’s hurt. It’s all about the sale. That’s how THEY think. Well, I don’t. This is my response. My response, one of refusal, defiance. I’ll continue to enjoy wine, enjoy what it brings. Focus on the wine. What a thought. Then, focus on a sale. Maybe. I’m not into the threaded theology those devils solicit. This blog, a product of the industry, unfortunately. So, I guess I’m just playing to their game board. Their taunts, racking my response.
My focus, a book. 1. 2, 3. 4… Just to keep writing. And what do I care if people are wondering, “What is he writing?” Like on my lunch breaks, when I’d get those looks, walking out with my black bag to the Roasting Co. I’m only concerned with me, my perspective on wine, my wined pages, novels.
Cold in this home office. Wine Bar beats circulating, calming me, taking me somewhere else, which is precisely what I need. I’ll be honest, I’m so sick of this entry, this blog, this vomitus industry. Clocking out, before I say something I really regret. Although I don’t know how that’s possible, as there’s NO ONE in wine’s world that shakes me even slightly.
Sorry, readers. Tomorrow, I promise to write more placidly. Pleasant eve … Go enjoy a nice full glass. If you made it through these paragraphs you deserve it.