1-14-23
Mid-January already. 07:57, VV Peet’s. Have to make something happen today with wine and wine projects. Nurse called it “the Mike Madigan empire” that I was working on today. She said jokingly, but not. I have to make something happen. TO-DAY.
Whole day ahead of me…. Know the approach. Start conversations, build the back-and-forth, have it turn into something.
Latte, 4 shots as always. Couldn’t make the Nurse’s air pods or buds work so I’m forced to listen to the music here, which is usually great, often playing Air or Bonobo, or something chill, electronica, trip-hop.
Bringing the Nurse lunch around noon, head to Fairfield at 11-something. Plenty of time to make progress…. We were in bed early last night, so slept fine. Slept to rain and sound of the heater.
Admire the Nurse in ways I never have another human except for maybe Dad and my winemaker sister…
And I’m doing it. Somehow returning to wine and its whirlwind industry, sales and marketing, PR, whatever I can touch. And I’ve done everything.
When I would sell wine, I wouldn’t. I would share stories and ask questions, learn the characters around me and in front of me expecting some new knowledge or insight into this mythic juice.
Over the years I have been complimented more times than I can count on how I speak wine, about it, tell its stories and describe in whatever way I do. I still kick myself for not following that one guy’s advice, or basically instruction after hosting him and his group at Roth – “That’s what you should do…”
My ex sister-in-law, suggesting strongly I start a wine blog. I did, but often got distracted.
No more.
I don’t have time.
I can’t afford it.
One of my tracks comes on. Finally. Now I’m in a grove or Beat of my own…. Not letting certain seats or suits or dimensions instill any fear. I’m taking this wine story into my own hands, in SO many methods and ways.
Conditioning my thinking in a cosmic and thoughtful bottle. Contained, in one place. No bloody distractions. Like yesterday driving here from the loft, listening to podcasts rather than music. While it rained. First time I’d ever done that and I was in a peaceful ease and type of Me that I’ve never been.
The same with my wine writings and steps from here on…. Writing about it differently like the Chardonnay last night. Orin Swift, show new magnetism and might, and spell-casting… in a Chardonnay. I remembered at one point in the podcast Sedaris talking about how he felt about his own writing, writings from the past and how he’d find things wrong with it. My past wine notes, I don’t know, I quite like them.
They were eager, innocent, I could see the urge and urgency to do something new. To talk about wine like no one else does.
Wine photos in my phone, stretching back over a decade. Why do I ever get distracted, or stray.