Sipped a nice ’06 Petite Sirah from David Bruce. Think the fruit may have been from the Central Coast, but I’ll have to verify. Successful day at NWG, furthering my love of selling wine, proselytizing me further into 1Stop’s potential. Need to sip more wines, in my spare time, when/wherever I can some scoop. Not Lit Lunch today, as Lisa returned from her wedding/honeymoon in Mexico. Good to have my work sister back. Made me realize, again, that travel is necessitated not just by my love of writing, wine, writing about wines I love, but life’s totality, brevity. I need to be roaming, seeing. NOT stationary. That’s poison to these pages, to my books.
The movie from Friday night, still in head. Capote’s research habits, the steps that led him to super-writer-fame, that championing opus. Such a journey for him, for me watching the film translation of his project. Now, sipping some ’10 Lancaster Sauv Blanc to cap night, listening to Wine Bar beats. After this entry, only 19 more. What do I do with all this writing, in this blog, or, log? Maybe these tropical melon keys in my glass will provide some map. Should they? Should I want them to? I should solve puzzles by Self. Right?
Tomorrow, hoping to have such a day at work. I will, if I just stay focused. Embrace the lessons, apprenticeship. Wish I had some of that David Bruce now, strangely. Would love its dark, ghostly, flavor fog on my palate. May help me finish some of those suspense shorts I’ve been intermittently brushing, during Literary Lunch hours. This song, without doubt orders me to hop on a plane. To Portugal, Italy, Spain. Morocco. Would love to visit that northwest side of Africa. Dreaming, sipping, scribbling, ending my savory sequel to Sunday.
(Yep, Central Coast ...)