With this last, very full, glass of ’11 Chardonnay from the estate, I’m thinking about what one of the VIP guests said to me, near visit’s end, about vines’ likeness to us; How as they are strained, it’s nearly assured that their character will be enhanced, more remarkable, brilliant–fortified. So goes with us Artists. Right now, I’m nearing the end of my structure struggle. project R, nearing fruition; tomorrow, writing for its build. Not much note taking in tasting Room today. And that’s fine, ‘cause that’s what these writer nights are for–the sipNscribble’s.
Weather today, hot again, but not like the past few days, thankfully. Think the vines need a beak, too. This Chardonnay, telling me to not be so hard on the varietal, dismiss it as I always have. So, I add it to the whoso list. And who better to seek for consult on white Burgundy than my winemaker sis professor. This one, I’m guessing, sees some steel, a little oak. Couldn’t be full ML, I don’t think. Crisp like I don’t expect Chards to be. Relief, refreshing. Another sip… Can’t believe how good that is. Me, Mr. ABC [Anything But Chard], closing night with this white type.
More poetry, more music, more verses. That’s what I now need. Poetics, its theory, its many shapes–it defies the excess domesticity I detest. These paragraphs, commercial novels on drugstore racks, predictable prose you see written everywhere.. silenced with rhymed lines. Maybe it’s too dreamer of me, but I want to see crowd reaction, like I did at Kaz the other night; I want to make people smile with my words; I just want to Creatively communicate. Looking at my glass, still quite full, thinking of what she said about stressed vines. She’s right. Kelly would agree. Need to blog less. The instant gratification of posting to a “blog,” making me too comfortable, lazy; like vines over-irrigated. I need to write, type, print, sell. I’ll form more tradition with my inscriptions. [8/12/12, Sunday]