Finally tasted my wines today. Relieved, as they both taste fine. The blend, however, amazing, unlike any wine I’ve tasted recently. The Merlot, developing a little more muscle, losing whatever flatness it had before. Tonight at home, sipping a ’10 Merlot from St. Francis. Paired perfectly with the Italian sausage pizza I brought home (also having olive, mushroom, onion). Need a break. Of some kind. Just quiet. A Road trip, for writing. OR maybe I just need another sip. Tonight, poetry, after this entry. Closing computer altogether.
Great session this morning. Makes me feel guilty, frankly, about the wine I’m NOW sipping.
Posting my last video to blog, tomorrow. This is a writer’s space. IF there’s the occasional accompanying still [photo], that’s fine. That’s part of journalism. But video, that’s a blogger’s bag. Not an Artist’s. In fact, maybe I should post it to bottledaux’s social media page, one of them. Not spending another second stressing about this nonsense. Focus on page, books. But I’ve said this all before. Tired of my own repetition. Sick of it, really.
My mood, falling. I blame this laptop, all technology. The blog, what it makes me do: Tweet, Facebook, tag, reblog, repost. NEW RULE: no more new “docs” opened on this monster. Divorcing technology. Relying strictly on Comp Books, or legal pads, or pieces of scratch paper I’d find in one of my desk drawers upstairs.
Merlot glass, empty. Thinking of my Merlot.. what do I want to top it with? Maybe some Petit Verdot, if they’d let me. Definitely needs oxygen, some so2 maybe, according to Blair. May be making another wine with Katie this vintage. So excited. Hope it’s something voluptuously palate-situated, depending on what vintage conditions are naturally provided. Do I want to do another Cab? A Merlot? Syrah? Will Katie, the consummate Chardonnay queen make me produce her Burgundian belle? This is the part in winemaking, PRECISELY, I deplore: the waiting, the dependency; on people, Nature. In Literary lots, we do whatever we want. There is no dependency. In fact, we thrive in and ON rejection of pattern, the expected, the “norm.” This may be something I want to cover in Fall, especially with 1A, where we cover Poe, maybe some Faulkner, Plath.. some Shakur?
10:49pm. No run tomorrow, Mothers’ Day. Not sure if I put the apostrophe in place proper, but it’s a day for all mothers, in my sight. Makes me think of all she’s done for me. Almost 34–NO, 34–years of parenting me. Advice, support.. I don’t know what else. I mean, I do, but I don’t have time, space, energy to here it type. She’s amazing, my Mom. Need to bring a nice bottle tomorrow night. Like WHAT? Need to see what I have here.. especially upstairs. Feel I have too much of the winery’s wines in this house. Has to stop. From now on, bottles I take home will be for gifts, or bartering. Like tonight, gave the ’11 “Reserve” Chardonnay to one of our neighbors, Brittany.
Almost out of coffee here in house. See? Need more bottles for exchange, which I’ve done before. Now thinking to Self: “What do I have up there, upstairs?” Lancaster, some St. Francis, maybe some other bottles about which I forgot. Who knows. But my Mom deserves one quite special. I’ll have a bottle-elect at some point in morrow’s morrow early.
Nightcap, approaching. The bottle’s been open for about 2.5 hours. Should show more balance, by now. Would like it to have that tannic shock like our winery’s 2010 Merlot. Have no problem telling guests that’s my favorite at the main bar.
Already well over word limit for day, so I have to park. Need the canvas, anyway. Beginning to hate bloggers, social media willy-nilly subscribers. If the sphere reverse circles, then what’s left for the writer’s hurdle? Watching the news, so bored. Just noticed some of the new “followers” of this [my] “blog.” These aren’t Literary people. Just my point. Need change. Practice revamp. Retarget the box.