So much to say about the little tasting room I was in yesterday,

but more than that how it translated in this morning’s touch and talk.  How I woke, showered, said goodmorning to my little daughter and put on a cartoon for her to watch before I was under the fall of water.  The wines, the visit from my sister, even that last group of four showing of course at the last minute to taste through the flight and take their time… wouldn’t let it bend my grin that stuck the entire day.  I recorded some notes, and took notes in the ‘1948 journal’ I call it, the one dad gave me recently as a give for Father’s Day….  There’s something in that tasting room, and in the flight, me being there by myself and having time for music, writing, thought, acknowledging and defining the poetique ….

In a Buddhist saying I found recently, it was stressed to focus on what makes you happy, not the opposite…. In fact I think it specifically said SAD… don’t focus on what holes and holds you in sadness.  Today I’m writing as a template to replicate.  Everything about it, apply it to the two remaining sales days in June 2020, see if I can turn things in another direction.  The Room told me yesterday to relax, things will connect, write along the way…. And in a playful way ordering me to finish the goddamn book already.  The one on wine, the new journal, or some other piece, and just give it away.  Chris, the gent whose tasting room I was in, started his label ten years ago, carrying it with him to all the wineries at which he’s made mine.  He’s always retrained, maintained, and proclaimed kindly his identity and intentions.

I’m so doing and the like enacting today, and onward.  Writing about wine….. The Cab Franc yesterday made by my friend Zach, to the Syrah I tasted next door at Kamen.  Writing wine makes me a writer, makes me an exploratory writer, a more curious one where I’m able to write from the bottom of the bottom of my thinking…. See anything.  Wine urging me to travel as Karl did with his blokes, excavating terrific terrain and inwardly narrating to more genuinely connect with world outside.

Kids in other room, demanding nothing of me right now.  They know I’m writing.  They want me to write.  Want me to finish the book on wine….  They want me to translate wine and the tasting room, me in it, listening to Thievery Corporation and Earth, Wind, and Fire…. Other chill instrumentals, Miles Davis.

Drew, Estate Dir of Westwood Wines, someone about I’ve before penned and typed, works just down the street from me.  Meeting me there in the morning when I first arrived, with a gift… single clone Pinot (Mt. Eden I think), which I pulled cork from last night pairing with the burrito from Maya, one of my most loved restaurants, Mexican or other, anywhere.  While waiting for our orders we enjoyed a beer outside, on the sidewalk at a black, wrought iron table.  Talked about wine, the industry, people we know and tasting room circuit which if you’re in the industry you’ve more than likely been on yourself or know several that have.  The discussion was wine but the life around wine.. the work and people, the voyage et pensée (journey and thought) of it all.

From something coming from soil… the vines…

The glass.

Before sitting outside he helped me close the room, waited while the four snooty giglets outside bantered and bragged and sipped as slow as they could.  He also talked with these two young Marin belles that were elementary school teachers (one of them, the other was a teacher at one point but now does finance in the city).  They loved the Rosé, left with 4 bottles of it and I think maybe something else.  Once the room and day were done, saw what I’d been seeing the whole day.  Life …..  The poetic …. More verse in music in shapes and room angles.