The Zin from last night. A Zin, all I can say. Had the jammy thing going on, high alc… Was nice, actually. I’m distracted, though. Thinking too much. I’m always thinking about writing about wine, and how wine deserves much more than what the critics and name-names give it. So here I am with the chance to do so, like in English class teaching myself to write again. Time is fading, as is this time to finish a book on wine. So there it is, it worked…. No more talking about the thing out there, only wine, only what’s in here, only the NOW at this desk… the smallest desk I’ve ever had to work at.
Breakfast. No going out… Told myself I was going to fast till noon. See a lot of people posting about that, about how not to gain like a hundred pounds during this shelter order. Coffee’s supposed to be an appetite suppressant, or something. But it’s not suppressing shit right now. Write through it—or no, write about it, the fasting…. Think of breakfast, yes, imagine some breakfast on a road trip for your wine book, or papers, essays, notes whatever they be…. Jotting in your notebook like you should every morning and some at night… Tomorrow flying to Texas. Austin. Always wanted to go there. Finally I am. And it’s wine taking me there.
Removing self from self and more deeply considering my ping-ponging thought pattern over the years, my inability to singularize for purposes of answering that question “So what do you write about?” and other efforts or trial, during this time I just STOP. Write about wine, the tasting room…. Wine experiences, research (“research”) I might do. I’m meant to write this, I know, so why do I do the back and forth? Who cares. I’ve stopped it. Funny though, the reality, of me being here and not in the vineyard, not traveling, not going anywhere… just seeing self in the car driving to the airport for some trip to Spain, or France, or Australia. Part of me thinks wine is limiting as a singularity, a topic. That’s precisely what I need, as what’s limited is the most promising in terms of expansion. Can’t explain what I’m thinking, but I know what I’m thinking. Know what I’m going to do, what I’m doing… Mike, I say to self, you’re already doing it.
Tonight going to open the other red I bought yesterday at Oliver’s…. the Kenwood, what was it… Cab? Good. One night of Zin and I’m utterly and definitively Zin’d out.