Coming home from dinner with Mom and Dad, I realize other realities in Wine’s realm. This Napa/Sonoma skirmish isn’t so much attributed to anything tangibly reflective, but more so to consumer accordance. It’s a fashion, of hardly enviable, desirable, sequences. Wine is wine. That’s all. Incredible wine over there, Napa, along 29, elsewhere. Luminous bottles here, Sonoma County, each of our valleys. The contest, in our heads. What is my position? Am I just comfortably neutral? Not at all. I’m on the side of the moderated, actual, consumer. This author, writing about wine for spanning love of the wine. Straightforward, simple.
After a long day at NWG, I sip night’s cap, looking forward to the morning mocha. I target 1000 words before the event. Not sure what to expect, there. Probably the same stage, I guess. Right? A wine-centered continuum. People talking, “networking,” aflutter. Right? That’s what I’ll be enacting. And, frankly, it’ll be material for BOOK2. This night, material. The promise of sleeping in 2morrow, pages. Watching another ghost show. Is this “show,” those of like, expansively authentic? Would love to know, but wouldn’t. Need another sip. Oh, in Mike’s glass, ’08 Sonoma County Pinot. Speedy, flavorfully frantic, encircling with its earth-anchored light berry bravado. Intriguing, increasingly.
Closing, tiring. Wine, not so much on mind. Looking over at the pillows, blanket. Again appreciating certainty of obligation’s absence in rising to commute an hour, to sit over 8, then ride another 60 minutes back2castle. Not this vinoLit rebel, in hours. Tomorrow, all mine. With writing, cameras, WINE. 2morrow, no industry in me. Only appreciative artistry. Not sure how much longer I can trot in this Literary block. This week, like a belaboring harvest, summons the scribe to snooze. Something about my illustrate. Not sure if it’s Pinot-pulsed, or not. Either way, I’m forward.
[7/15/2011, Friday, NewMike]
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