Another run this evening.  More than 10k, but I’m not sure precisely how far, as my device, my phone, shut down.  That’s two straight days of longer runs.  But after tonight’s, I’m tired.  Tried some wine at work today, both from bottle and bbl, but nothing gave a riveting note, something I’d like to emulate in my ’14 production.  No wine tonight.. hoping to get up earlier tomorrow morning, ready Self for class, and prepare for a nice wine for tomorrow night, more than likely Lancaster, or that Cab Franc Katie gave me.. want to look into races for August.. another ‘half’, preferably.

Early tomorrow morning.. early!  I keep telling mySelf.. and I want to– not sure.  Tired, more than tired.  I blame the run.  But tomorrow morning, my fingers won’t stop on this key field.  I won’t let them…  This morning, squaring the two Zins off against each other, like some civil taste skirmish, showing me a lot about character of wine, within the same vintage (’11).  On some sips I’d rather the “estate”, then on others the “Century Vine”.  Then I thought, why do I have to choose one, just one?

10:04.. Definitely feeling the run.  In my knees, thighs, even arms.  And the dilemma, any, with wine’s world, or industry, so below me.  I’m thinking about fiction, and how I want it constructed.. my characters.. it has to be narrative, and how my character sees everything in wine’s messy world, and how he sometimes find odd order in it, especially how he makes wine, or is just starting to.  He make wine, small batches, and is just selling what he can, basically from his trunk.  Yes, a couple restaurants carry his bottles, the SB and the Cab, but beyond that, he has no marketing plan.  Nothing.  He just goes around selling wine.. HIS wine, two types, SB and Cab.. simple.  Is that a marketing plan?  No.. but he did plan on only making two wines, so he thinks it’s SOME kind of “plan”.  He remembers the time he spent in college, studying philosophy and Art, and French.. that’s how he came to his wine’s label: ‘Égal’.. meaning ‘equal’ in French.. stemming from his value of balance, and equality in society, the quietude that should always be, especially when drinking wine.


He comes home from a tasting, not having sold a single bottle or wine club, or even a name for his email list.  His mood is badger-y.  He only wants to pop one of his own bottles and note.. note anything.. not necessarily write, just note.

“Red– deep– deeper– dark– sexy, larger pours, thick mouthfeel, and something you remember.. it haunts you.. yes, haunts–”

Third glass, and he stops with the noting.  Just takes a slew of seconds for himself.  He wants to get up in the morning and run, but he knows that won’t happen.  Especially after the next glass, which would be the one killing the bottle.  He doesn’t care.  Not at all.  Not after today.

“peace, label re-design”