Done with all this fire

news.  Like my sister said the other night, watching something silly, something ridiculously, stupidly funny.

Sipping some of the Oyster Bay SB.  Think it’s Oyster Bay.  Either way, more relaxed.  Not thinking about it— but about this wine.. slightly spritzy, grapefruit and wild grass, herbs and thyme.  I’m just in the floor, sipping.  Just what the wine warrants in this time, post f—e.  No, not writing it, either.

Writing my way to some realization with this glass…  16:22.  The wine tells me not to care.  She tells me to smile, be thankful, laugh, and watch something like you said, something obnoxiously comical.

Wine is here for me.  She relaxes me and talks to me in her chords and echoing vocal colors.  I compose and listen more to the white Bordeaux cove— smitten and enamorius with her emotional topography.  Making the day and his time better, more rich and disclosing its tones and narratively music-set shifts.

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