strong. Relentless in what I want, which is to write about her for the rest of my life… what I tasted tonight in that bottle I pulled from the Yulupa Whole Foods, a store that I’m hesitant to say doesn’t behold the most impressive, expansive, or even encouraging wine selection I’ve seen. But I found one, and this was the one. I’ll get into specifics later but as I now sip I hear what it orders a writer to do— keep writing. Don’t let myself stop and don’t focus on the wines I’m not sipping but the one—and all I need is one, at a time—am sipping.
My first days in a tasting room were a bit of a victory garnished in folly. Folly in that I really didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I knew the St. Francis lineup, or most of the wines offered that day, but I didn’t know the tasting room posture, or presence— at one point I thought to myself, “Seriously, what the fuck am I doing here?” But I was there, I told myself to be strong and that I could do it, to trust myself and that there was nothing that could stop me from doing it, making something of my experience in the tasting room. At the VERY least, it’d be something to write about, and it was. It still is.
That was ’06. Here I am, and old man in ’17. Wine tells me to be strong as time just plows through my life and days, continues to remind me that I’m getting old and now I have kids and they’re getting old. Wine assures me it’ll always be there for me, though. “Pick a side!” I’m thinking, “Yours or mine!” But I’m overthinking, and that’s wielded with death. So I sip the rest of this Marin County Pinot… the bottle’s on the counter by the sink, and I’m too much in Kerouac mode to get up and photograph it with phone and bring the capture back here to post, put pixels into this prose. What difference would a winery name make, I think. None. Enjoy the wine as a wine— yes you have the specs of Pinot and Marin County, and that’s all you need in this immediacy.
Tomorrow arranging a wine club inventory, OUR wine club inventory, among other postulations. Has to be done in the wine industry, such is what people don’t think about, but these details I find the most valuable as a writer. I wish those dreaming to be in the wine industry could see what I see, have the vineyard walks that I do before the day starts, be in the tastings I am. Not to see how special it is, or how “cool”, but to understand what’s involved. Agreeing with Chris Silva, in an interview that I did with him years ago, wine is a beverage. BUT, from a writer’s scope and perspective, there’s a vastness of vastness that most don’t meet. Now feeling like I’m a reporter, behind the lines, behind battle lines especially now that it’s harvest…. I’m strong. Stronger that strong, after today. I have a journalist’s posture, tasting room spell-casting, the present as my most potent of selling tools, speaking lassos, cruising modules. Another sip— radicalized cherry, raspberry doused in rawly dusted cocoa and light leather— I’m lost and formed, told and unrelenting in what I REALLY want.