12/20/12 — wine journal’d

IMG_0920One thing I’ve been thinking, since rising: “If this were the last last day, before world’s end, am I from where I’d want to leave?” Next, an observation at that corporate fellow’s coffee bordello: a woman barking at her child for being late, while she waited for her order.  I can honestly promise, Jack will never be late to school from my morning mocha habit, if it lives that long.  I have to quit.  This morning’s wait, the people standing around, so close to the writer.. just uncomfortable, awkward.  This morning’s line, one of my last.  Again, promise…  Learned today that my barrel’s almost done with ML.  Already!  Quite excited.  Talked to one of the winemakers about my 2nd wine this vintage, the “S-Storm Blend,” and he promised he’d work on it with me, provide whatever assistance I needed.  And I’ll need a lot, as I’m still in learning’s curviness.

Michael Madigan 2777
The Writer. With his Wine.

Sipping this ’09 blend that I traded in the tasting Room, months ago.  At first, wasn’t impressed.  Found it too hot, too herbal, too sharp.  But I found my self impatient.. never said patience was one of my more noticed qualities.  Now, a couple hours followed, balance, musicality.  It’s still a bit hot, fangy..but it’s young.  I opened it far too early.  Should have known better.  But I wanted adventure tonight, something unexpected, unknown.  Wanted a new red lover.  Hear rain on window’s antithetical face.  Winds should be high tonight.  At least that’s what the news said, but…  After this posting, more poetry.  It’s become my stimulant, narcotic, dependency anatomically, mentally.  I thank, again, Ms. Plath.  Need a sip–  May release a small poetry zine before the book.  Need so to “subsidize.”  Ugh, hate that word.  There was something else from day I wanted to report.. moving cases in cage with J & R.  Didn’t pour much, not many characters.  OH WAIT.. there was.  That peculiar duo from Delaware [no I’m not calling it “DE,” as they did].  Took notes on my Plath lectures, that I hope to present someday, somewhere.

The mouthfeel, much more gentle, poised, POETIC.  Love when wine shines like this, shows me to slow my pace, be easy with judgements [maybe just keep them to self].  The Barbera, at winey, just challenging my analytics.  Do I not understand it?  Do I not like it?  Hate saying I don’t like a wine, any wine.  Especially from my winery.  I have to say, frankly, that it’s simply a young wine.  [I think all wines have their place.  Yes, ALL wines.]  Should get ahold of a couple more bottles.  Hold them for a year, 2.  Then revisit.  Wine, many wines, need opportunity, invite to mature.  We, as consumers, need B more patient.  This wine’s color, the one on table with writer now.. sexy, vampiric, flirtatiously foreboding.. vixen varietal.  Yes, it’s a blend, non-specific in varietal.  But it’s its own.  Varietal, character, presence, taste, pervasion.  Presence.

Wasn’t going to sit & type, tonight.  Was going to fly straight to new journal, its leathered borders.  This poetry collection, that I’m conspiring to rush-write.. what do I want to say with its collected candor.  10:43p.. News’ll be on soon, talking about Mayan prophesy, these 3 “storms” headed towards CA, the horrible shootings in CT, who knows what else.

Found a picture of me in front of my barrel, just after the wine was racked into.  So glad I had the pictures recovered from that amazing shop in West Santa Rosa.  Just reading an entry from 2 years ago, on old blog.  How does time do what it does?  Does it care?  Overthinking.

Class, over.  Next semester, probably my most challenging since ’06, Fall, at SCC.  I’m ready for it, mind you reader.  Have to focus on the WRITING.  And I have to keep writing, through all challenge, frustration.  Just remembered that man telling me, before Jackie was born, how stressful it is having children.  Told him I wasn’t worried, that I was a writer.  He had nothing to say.  Made me feel powerful, accomplished, whole.  Jackie has only made me a stronger scribe– more committed, cunning.

10:54pm.  Have to start editing what I just shotgunned to screen.  Rain, indecisive.  Commonality with this “storm.” Should taste my wine tomorrow, see what it has to say.  I plan on taking EXHAUSTIVE notes in that Kunde cave, really testing my “palate.” Seeing if MMFM Merlot has an early ardentness in its flex.  It has to, especially with professional winemakers on my side, teaching me.. true guidance.  Can only stroll thankful for the eyes, insight, right of these gentleman.  Makes me think of my interview with Heidi Barrett in 2010, how she had almost identical perspective as an oeno-Artist that I hold as penman.  I’ve always said: “There’s no more expected blend than wine’s world with the Literary.” This rain, has me thinking of Paris, that hotel Room.  Last wine sip.  I’m clipped–  Can’t wait to be back on estate, tomorrow morning.  That place, telling me something in mornings, shifts’ stretches.  Best thing for this writer, this wine lover.  Wish I could have another glass of this ’09, but I’ll save it for morrow’s PM.  Better that way, and I love visiting wines 24 hours after worldly intro.