Pouring New Seats

Not ready for a run just yet.  Nor a walk.  Woke from an odd dream, set of dreams actually.  No bother in explaining them or going through the scenes, they were just odd.  Not sure what to write about, honestly.  It’s not too early, 8:23am.  Wanted coffee but don’t know where the k-cups are.  Thought about driving to the Starbucks in Village, but no.  So, I write without caffeine.  And no surprise I’m not motivated, I’m not into it, I’m not an energized or enthusiastic human.

I go over yesterday’s events and conversations while on this couch, remember hearing last night about a friend in the wine industry losing her job.  Anger, exhaustion, confusion all I could feel.  Of course, I thought. The bloody wine industry…. Dad telling me about that lawyer that started his own winery in Dry Creek, the even they went to a few months ago.  No way am I going back, I gavel.  Only a side project—or not side, but additional.  Not primary.

Syrah last night, notes, thoughts of me up here and going back to Sonoma eventually, obviously… Happiness, how to forward more aggressively toward it.  I’m happy now, of course, finally, but the intensification.  Wine will be a part of it, but not the way these industry dragons demand it be.

I should write about the industry more…. My time in the TR, getting let go from the wine marketing firm in downtown Napa (which was really just a mini call-center), to one winery not offering me a full-time job till it was too late.. to…..  Another idea, harnessed to this one.  Industry themed yes, but the glasses, the pours, the events, the constant rotation….  My friend Chris, very much knowing wine and his preferred wines, regions, in many ways more thoroughly than I do, saying that upon retirement or even sooner than that he wants to be part-time in a tasting room.  Of course, I thought, “…but why not have your own?” I said to him.  He liked the idea, but practicality getting in the way.  Later, he told me.  “I’ll do it, I’ll get there.”

Going to dinner in bend tonight, and more than likely bringing a bottle of something.  That’s what wine’s always been to me… family and occasion.  Then I hear about something like what happened to my friend and the innocence or romance, or whatever positive is pulled from the visual and memory.  THEY, do that.  The industry dragons.  Those people that are spreadsheets and numbers and overthought to a sickening degree.

Another definition of wine, and not so much the business side but…. The language.  No…. the story.  Maybe…. But that definition.  Wine is conversation and language, happiness, music… quiet and piece and understanding your own character, not trying to sound like someone or something (like a somm’) when talking about the wine you’re tasting.  And, honestly, you don’t need to talk at all if you don’t want to.  Where is that written, that you always have to get analytical or deconstructive when sipping?

Again, wine pulls me from a writing lull, stall, whatever that was in the first paragraph.  Telling me something, giving me an order of some kind, like that person did in ’09 saying I’m a “good” writer and should start a “wine blog”.  Then, another instructor at SRJC telling me about a past student of his that started blogging about boxing and now does that for, well, a living I guess.  Everything I sip, every bottle I see, put in a book, a stretched sequence of released from ME.

I can’t end this sitting yet….  My friend getting fired, and for something so petty and ridiculous.  The industry… like it’s the only one when people say that, “THE INDUSTRY”.  Give me a break….  Feel like attacking this industry, and all its inconsistencies and bastardization of the art and science and LIFE of wine.  How do I approach this attack, no idea… or, simply, sharing my views on wine.  Like a Howard Stern or Hunter S. of wine and its industry without being IN the goddamn industry.  Part of my life’s work or collective narrative.  So many people I’ve met I don’t even know where to start….  My friend telling me she wants to stay in the industry but realizes that beginning the same round and round again is silly.

I start writing something for the #vinovinevin blog, stop exactly at 100 words.  This blog, and me, being About EVERYTHING.  Wine is much of that EVERYTHING.  Has been for, well, years.  Long before that twit recommended I start a blog.  So, here I am in Sunriver Oregon collecting and wine finds me.  Those vineyards on Chalk Hill, on Lancaster’s property, Dutcher Crossing, St. Francis obviously, Arista, find me.  Tell me to stay there.  Books are there.  My “career” is there.  I don’t need wine’s industry nor anyone in it.  Start my own.. in this house, on this ridiculously cozy chair… and not an “industry”.  Fuck I hate that word.  STORY.  Or maybe this has no category.

She, wine, embodies togetherness and civility, the act of listening and non-judgement. Other people in the house awake, and I struggle to stay in this wined world and thought collective.  Collection of pictures on laptop, in phone, in camera…  Chris and I recently going to Anderson Valley, tasting at Goldeneye and that other winery, think it’s called ‘Lichen’, may have spelling wrong, reminded of what I love about wine and why I keep coming back to her.  PEOPLE, relationships.. walks in the vineyard.  Nothing to do with working in a tasting room or driving people to the top of a fucking mountain to taste through a flight of 5 or more.  SHE, wine, promises love, thought, realization and appreciation of your own life.

I’m seeing the story now… HER.  Wine, why she’s still on page with me and I write about her first thing in the morning.  Finally with coffee in cup, finalizing day’s plans with parents, the morning reminding me where I am.  Do I want to go for a walk?  Not yet…  This idea of defying “the industry”, and if not defying then showing what it is, and how it’s not WINE… wine is not an ‘it’, but a goddess, a set of spells, a loving entity and voice.