Sipping a Cabernet, and not worrying about when I have to get up, come morrow. Irrelevant. I’m singing to myself between sips, Doors songs, pretending I’m Morrison. This bottle shows more epistolary qualities than other Cabernets I’ve of late sipped. Meeting my other consciousness here, with this recent dedicated pour. Spending my time on page more, hoping I wake earlier than I should, to write, build my voice, my time zone and vocal area code. Have to go to other purposes… what… a novel? Got it all, all my moment here in my types, paired with this Cabernet and a morning where I wake before most on this block. Risible now with my urgency– pugilistic but cinematically holistic with my placement on this floor. The Cab tells me to… to recite to self, replay moments and enact other roles, test myself. Voice… voice… this wine and I have a decidedly common modulation. What, deserving of the moment but now, symbolism beyond my doing.. But we together speak, sing… ‘People are Strange’… I know. But another sip, regarding the morning not.