journal

My night’s cap, ’11 Syrah.  Not in anyway conforming to the stereotypes and misnomers of the 2011 voice collective.  I’m connecting to this wine and hearing its intent.  Looking through past blog posts that were altogether centered on wine, and with a palpable forward in a pursuit of wine, consumption and production– giving wine a last chance.  Was going to write “second chance”, but this is more of a final attempt to make wine my own.  So where else does the writer start?  Well, drinking it of course.  But I sip slow as tomorrow’s my long day.  Drive to Mendo, then back to SR.  FOUR rough draft workshops and a Hemingway introduction.  Already have the quote decided that I’ll use to introduce one of my most followed fiction authors.  He won the Pulitzer and the Nobel– truly dedicated his Life to fiction.  Fiction.. fiction.. the story, and they’re everywhere, I was thinking tonight watching the first game of the World Series, Giants winning, I think 7-1.

Alice with a cold, my poor sweet…  Me coming back from my 7.01 mile run and hearing her sniffle, sneeze, seeing her lowered eyelids, I can tell she’s in discomfort, and it bothers me just as intensely as when little Kerouac ails.  Still have some of that Syrah in the kitchen, should sip soon.  Saw Sam doing a punchdown of some CF in the tank room, guess it was skins that were going to be disposed and he, Sam, halted the removal, decided to use it himself.. the color was intense as was the invisible thrust to the nose.  Have to make wine again, I told myself.. next vintage, for sure, ’15 will be mine, in so many wined ways.  Ordered some wine today in addition to my wine club shipment from AV winery.  Not much just a couple extra bottles, the cuvée that Alice likes, some SB that I and Mom & Dad love, well as some ’08 Cabs that are mindblowing.  Making wine everything right now, yes now I need a sip to get further into this character, and I drink not to feel intoxication but to prompt and provoke sentences and visions and dreams, further the wishlist.

Lots of grip and ricochet on taste sensory; cherry, cinnamon and a little green but not much; none of that expected gamey Syrah song, not here with this ’11.  Mom and Dad scheduled to come over Saturday night for pizza.. will open something dastardly delightful for them, like one of the 08’s, or maybe that Hamel Red that Alex and India gave me– either way something strong, something artful and a bottle that rallies writing.

9:56.  Should be in bed soon.  Not editing cuz I don’t have the time and I still have one more sip there in the kitchen.  Everyone’s going after the 12’s.. I’m beginning a quest to pin some expository and resplendent 11’s!  How’s that, wine critics and bullshit bloggers!?  Feel like a wine monster, wanting to examine every character that me crosses– but oh!  I need change the character, of ME, as races approach, so I can’t sip too much.  If I want to do that ‘full’ in Santa Cruz, it’s less that 7 months away.  And I should, to show everyone and mySelf that I can.