The concentration of some people then the utter dismissal of the tasting momentum, they just want to spend time with their friends or family, loves, whomever, which is fine, more than fine. Then you have others that just take everything in and ask questions, then apologize for asking the questions they do, addressing quantity of inquiry and persistence, which always makes me laugh. Then, you have you… you making it what you will, and that’s what wine has always been, an opportunity to make moments what you will and saunter into interactions with new characters, then alongside with them. So much music in the tasting room, in wine, in sipping wine with characters new and unfamiliar. Don’t overthink wine, I urge people that come in here, use the wine for what it wants from you, what you want from her. “Why do you always personify wine in the feminine?” Was asked the other day. I said, “It’s just what I do.” Wine is seduction, thought, love, strength, gentle and assertive. To me, that embodies what I see as feminine. Not sure it’s rational, or what. But it’s what I do. Wine, you make your own. Again, no overthought. I also view wine as jazz. Different forms and meters, speeds and atmospheres of jazz. The tasting room, the stage, the accentuation of everything involved in such. This morning’s a different morning for me as a writer, a writer of wine and life, teaching and education, everything. See my book taking shape… essays involved in wine and what wine involves and invites. No interest in being an “influencer” of wine, as so many hope to now be with social media and devices, broadcasts and podcasts and blogs and vlogs. I just want to write, be in wine and intwined in its vibes and ebbs, clefs and steps. This tasting room, to my right, now silent and dormant, deserted stage, barren expanse, wood floors, unoccupied couches, the last two days seeing I don’t know how many characters through here stroll, teaching me about the room and what it can do, what it’s doing to my writing.
Doors to the Room, seismic symbols of Newness. New experiences, new characters, new voices and voices, directions and introspections. Everything in here, pedagogical and philosophy, meditative shapes and angles, musics, momentums. Everything. Wine yields thought, for writers like me. Not just something to post about. Not just a business. Not merely some lifestyle that you “tag” and “re-post”. Incalculable Sight and Life, poetry, puissance. Me, here, collecting with new Newness and circulation, perception. This morning, this tasting room, me… definitively character-driven. Wine orders us to live, and live madly, fearlessly, be tin the learner’s lean. MY story… wine-attracted, medialized, honed, purposed and put. I’m decidedly intensified, this eighth day of month 4, 2018. More life, more love, all from what out there grows. Coltrane in this room with me. We, both, in Sentimental Moods. Getting older, close to 39, my children aging sans ma permission. What else can I do but write, put all these pages out there. What else would I do… just let them rot in a desk drawer? No. No time. Wine professes so loudly and with no waiver that we have NO time. We only have the Now.