10:25, and I have peace finally.  The low wooing atmospheric skip of light down here in the studio’s first floor.  Said I wouldn’t have any wine tonight, but tomorrow’s a day with no rise with class right after, so I slightly celebrate.  Only on glass 2, and that’s where I’ll stop.  Busy today, more than generous thanks for my descriptions of wines, pourings and how I narrate what one could sip.  One lady going on, on, saying, “I just love the way you talk about wine, I mean it really gets me interested in the story, what I’m about to sip… you’re great…” I said something like, “Oh stop…” But I did appreciate the remark.  I’ve received this before, and I’m not gloating I swear, but this time it felt more genuine— the lady appreciated my passion for wine, not solely, but as well my love of language and how I believe that wine begs sincere and impassioned and playful sentences.

Sipping the Taylor Cab tonight, ’12, it forwards in a more theatric throw than I remember.  Could this be my favorite now, of Dutcher Cabs?  Noticing more narrative and rhetoric from the bottle tonight.  It wants me convinced.

(6/5/16)