Alone in room, quiet, no immediate to-do’s. Well I guess maybe there are but I’m not ready for them. Been in a tasting room in some capacity, with some regularity since 2006. Wine has given and taken from my story. Not sure which is more… doesn’t matter. Last night I had some Cabernet, from a winery I’ve long-respected, and worked at for a brief time in 2010. Made me think of my age, of course, and where I am, what I’m doing… poetry…. music…. teaching…. everything I do. All interests. I know I should be opening inventory cages, setting up for a tasting tomorrow in our cave, but I’m taking a me moment. Here. In the tasting room. Taking another taste of my story and the room. No one aspires to the tasting room. It’s where you start, where you enter the industry. So why the fuck am I still here? I’m making it work for me. Tasting room thoughts and diary images compiled and when out, whenever that is, I’ll speak reality about wine and it’s industry, and how for me writing about wine isn’t tied to wine at all. All these tasting rooms have ordered me away from wine, to write more on the blog, put out books, sell them, be free. So now, doing. No more dreaming. Doing, no more dreaming. No dreaming even though my dreams dominate me and I’m terrified of not attaining them, reaching my There. But this Room, this morning, warms me– Act now, or you’ll be kept.