From tasting room, but all I can think about is 4 AM, how if I woke at that time today I would’ve had so much done– intricacies that aren’t so intricate, plan with writing and blogging too kaleidoscopic, need to condense and forward more concertedly.
In love with a Carignane, today– wine reminding me to just have fun and not care about the pressure, if anything, be it industry- honed or no.
Didn’t pack a lunch so I devour almonds like I’ve been lost in the fucking Yukon. Why didn’t I pack a lunch, WHY??!!?? Alice told me to but I was so pressured by time proximity and if I’d have enough time to get to Geyserville from Bennett Valley– bloody time and its lecherous tentacles, always strangling and coercing the writer to forget shit.
Another handful of those goddamn almonds. 4AM TOMORROW MORNING. Or death. Kept imagining the drive up here, “I would have had at least two hours to write, get the newsletter done…” Tomorrow, tomorrow… Now I don’t worry, or try– quietude odd captures me in this kitchen. No sippers, no tourists, no ass-pain tourists, or locals, or asshole industry folk that want to taste fucking everything and tip you only with a handshake and an invitation to ‘come on by sometime’. No thanks, slug.