Kids outside, in here. How do I write. The solution is easy and obvious but not so obviously easy to enact. Stay up later, wake early.
Listening to an old Lamb track. “Angelica”. Music from this Balletto Chardonnay aligned and lifted by Room’s atmosphere. Chardonnay and I have always had a zig-and-zag sort of association. One where I’m annoyed that a pattern is being perpetuated. But not by this. Her music is not noise… it’s like this Lamb track, calm and echoing with piano meta-scales and chimes, hall sounds and calls to me the writer to not stop with my wined pages.
Return to wine always, me. Be it with internet and telecom, selling and marketing, “teaching” writing to 1A students at the JC, all from the tasting room vortex. Like I’m a kid, just here playing not worried about reaching at destination. Like Dean parking cars crazily, not caring about technique just as long as the wheels find their slot, spot.
Xmas tree already lit up behind me, outside dark, already. New time, the year wanting to close but me afraid that ’21 will be…. Why am I reluctant to talk to the new year? I ask the wine and the music it creates and the actual track now coming from laptop’s speakers. No answers. Guess I’ll just have to meet this new character, all 365 cells of its self.
I can’t hear them outside anymore, not if I’m typing, not if I’m listening to this Balletto Chard, RRV and from ’16 a year where I was still full-time at a winery and very much hoping for sections from the JC. Aside from this moment but part of it.
More apple than I like, not the acid style or stings I enjoy in this style of Chardonnay. You’re not going to like everything the DJ plays, and more often than not same with all tracks on an album. Friend of mine has always made wine and music a partnering province and pulse, so I note further. See more in the room wondering why I didn’t before. Tonight, just a rushed and gushing goon.