Spending lunch with words rather than something to shove down esophagus and into intestine. So I think of everything since arriving here. Put together several little pieces of scratch paper, to fill before leaving.. little pocket book of poetry, if you will. Only have two pieces, or most of the second piece, so far done. Thirteen minutes left in break, which has barely been a break. Snacked on some pieces of salami and almonds in kitchen, now I revisit ideas… wine… teaching… this bottled ox sees too much promise in too much. Need to singularize. Tasted three reds earlier in TR— Pinot, two Cabs. Wine and writing… should get out and walk the Cabernet block, just to see the water on the leaves. Be. In. The. Vineyard. So what am I doing here in this office. Good question. When back in the room, I’m tasting through the reds again. And noting on all. More wine story… more creativity… more bizarre descriptions. Like with the Pinot— aggressive speech, spiced berry momentum, a shapely presence and profile. When speaking about wine you should never have to feel a ‘should’ with your speech. You speak as you speak, just as the wine delivers whatever it does, and what it delivers will be interpreted and understood differently.