Only calls made so far, and no sales. But what can I do but my job. Not letting it get to me, at all. I know days like this happen. Walking here to the cubicle catacombs I saw all the barrels out, for cleaning or racking. Stopped and looked at them, with no real intention other than to look at barrels. Met a winemaker from Washington earlier in day and a cooperage rep who’s been with his company more than 25 years I think he said. So rare, now, to see that type of residency and tenure for any one company. Want my tenure to be for MY business, eventually. But here, I learn… about the wines, the methods of selling and marketing, events, building narrative and story.
Wind outside persists, haven’t lost power again like we did this morning. Thought we might be sent home early, but no such outcome. And I’m glad, honestly. I want to be here, where the story is. If would have left early, what would I have done? Gone wine tasting? Gone back to the hotel and wrote, taken a nap? May got a run in? Which reminds me… I need to get back into my running character. Wine life MUST be balanced with strict fitness routine, not just working out whenever you have time, or can just fucking fit it in.
Wine that’s speaking to me today… only tasting a couple of them… really, none. For some reason. None of them are convincing me of anything or showing me something new about their identities. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m off since the power came back on. Looking at the barrels, “What’s going to be put in them? What’s the racking plan?” Only they know. I can just imagine, and see myself one day again making my own wine, maybe with my sister, figuring out what barrels to use on what, and having guys like the barrel rep I met earlier come by my house, or little crush pad, or office, wherever, and tell me what types he can offer me. Whenever I’m here at Roth I just want to do everything— sell wine, market it, write about it, speak about it everywhere, write about it again, “educate” wine lovers and those wondering about wine if I’m qualified to do so, make it, own a winery and have someone else like my sister make it— this place sends me into dream spirals. Addictive. I’m drunk on ideas… any effect from what I earlier tasted, which was nothing, is more than departed. Dead. I’m clear headed and not from these dreams.. these goals and aims, fantasies in wine. I want to do everything in wine and I will, everything… The Zin downstairs, I guess the only one with any true thesis today. Blackberry licorice gusts, with peppered vocals and brushes, like cubist painting I can’t interpret but just love to look at, can’t look away from.
5 minutes left in lunch, my worded break, just as I promised myself I’d do earlier. Thought about getting a burrito from El Farolito, but need save money for the shop… for my first bottle purchases, what I’m to sell. Can’t fail to stop by Safeway on way home— I mean, ‘hotel’. Three new bottles, ones I’ve never heard of, seen, tasted, never knew before. My next assignments.