Little quiet in house. Home from Oliver’s, where the clerk asked me if I wanted a bag,

with easily more than 20 items not counting the Rosé I bought for Melissa, and the SB and Grenache I bought for self – this it was a Grenache, red blend at least.  Anyway, home in quiet house sipping Quivira SB… haven’t had this in a while.  Exactly the type of SB I’d produce, of course with the airy poetics and light breeze a composition but still vocalizing palate prominence.

Neighbors kids outside playing, int heir meandering hyena ways.  No slander… I admire them.  LoFi beats, just what I’d have in wine shop.  There I go… into wine dreams and daydreams and self-sown visuals and conversations with the puddle in the plastic Govino atop one the many journals Mom has bought me.

This wine has me relaxed…

Just enjoying music and vino tie, the riffs and tracks, jam sessions initiated…

Relax more, she orders.. more freeness in writing and wine exploration… the more you pin yourself to descriptors that everyone will understand or some words that are safe and expected, the more you rob self of the wine Road, invitations, beat.