I’ve never been one of those people all on-fire about Pinot, or even really pushed to write about it by some bottle I’ve had, or people around me, or that movie. So why did I get one for tonight, I don’t know…. That simple. Walked down wine isle at Oliver’s, saw the Pinot shelves, and said OKAY.
Does not go with what we’re having for dinner, I don’t think. Well, honestly, I don’t care.
I’m an anti-wine-writer in that regard, if you need to know. I used to get asked all the time at Roth Estate if I’m a sommelier. And I quicker than I do to any other question about my life say NO. Tell people I write and love wine. That’s it. I also tell them I’m interested in people that love wine.
After a crazy day with two restless and pugilistic wee beats, I have some quiet in the quarantine corner. Thinking of a glass. Just had a beer, Sculpin IPA, but it did nothing and said nothing. Think beer and I are headed our ways separate. Wouldn’t hurt that much, if I cut out beer indefinitely, only having one here and there. I want to study wine more…. Have my own shop and label, as might already know. Today is Day 21 of my newest 365 project, and I see my shop clearer. In Marin, I’m thinking. Wine is the nucleus, but there will be other offerings like beer and spirits, or whatever else there is to drink. But I’d have to hire someone for that, I think. OR, just be wine and beer. Want it to be even more than that…. A place to write, a place to develop ideas… partial but prominent think-tank element to it.
Again feeling tired. Have a glass of that Simi SB. That’ll even my treble and bass of thinking. Neighbor using his week whacker or grass cutter, that loud fuckin think whatever it’s called. Want a house somewhere quiet right next to a vineyard. No such sounds unless I’m the one making them. Separate, secluded somewhat but not excessively. Waking me up are thoughts of traveling to do tastings and write short essays and non-fiction short stories on these other wine people I see then capture to notes. Me sipping the Simi on a patio in Florida or New Orleans rather that at this goddamn corner table.
This 365 is going to be the detailing to the wine room, shop, or as I say Quarter. My friend Brittany, someone with whom I used to sell wine at Roth recently taking a harvest assignment monitor sales and documenting tonnage and block yields. Doing something different, but still in the wine cords and call. Growth in those blocks, pulled, weighed, converted and transformed to a voice. Everything sequences in a similar sound and stride, I’m seeing now at my old age. Wine isn’t wine, but everything. Now. This phone next to me, the IP device.. how I arrived at a telecom company, an AE, seeing interactions the same as I did int he TR.
Need to open that Pinot. I’m in my vino mode and mood, an imbued view in the truest pew.