Monday, September 12, 2011

112/111, Composition Cuvée

112:  Photos, Lost in Writing, Life ... Kaz Log Sip
Great day in the Room, followed by mishap with iphone, where I lost almost 1500 photos.  The ones that weren’t used, figuring, weren’t worth using.  Except for a couple, one with my new adorable friend Jessica from Chicago, IL.  Sorry, Jess!!!  An engaging day, with a scattered start in the Room.  Meaning, a guest swarm, just brother Kaz and I behind the counter.  But, we showed a time to all through passing.  Not worrying about my phone, anymore.  As wine is about more than photographs, the entrapping trinkets housing them.  Even above the writing.  Wine predicates its peaceful pulpit on occasions, memorable moments.  I know I keep saying this, but it’s true.  That’s why I don’t miss my phone that much.  It can be replaced.  It’s a device, a thing.  A valueless object.  The times you spend with characters invaluable, like Kaz, his wife Sandy, his daughter Kristen (aka Little Kaz), my fellow music lover Nate, my big little cousin Luke,  pass quickly past something that can be purchased, broken, replaced.  Today taught me to take my time.  Sip, savor.  Not just the wine, but Life.  The vinoLit life.  Now that I am writing, I’ve forgotten about the spontaneous snaps on that corporately distractive buttoned worm.  And if I wanted to, I could go out next weekend, the weekend after that, one more following, and have close to 1500 still with a new device.  Not true, the same, with written pages.  And it’s not even a camera.  It’s a phone.  Both my REAL cameras rest safely in this writing Room, prepared to side with my serious scribbles.  -9/11/2011, Sunday
111:  Back, Wine Peddling; Then, Petite Sirah sipNscribble 
After two short weeks, I have a full one.  No sales, till the minute last.  A mixed case, sold to a fellow Californian.  Actually, his secretary.  Bought a new phone.  One I can’t afford.  Am I happy to have another toy?  I guess, a little.  Took my first picture tonight, of the PS bottle.  Sipping at a pace intended for delight.  This new device, already demanding more time than I want to give it.  Why am I wasting so much time on these “social” media programs, or accounts, or...whatever they’re technically dubbed.  Anyway, sip 3...  This new device could serve me rather advantageously in my wine emprise.  Especially now, with harvest.  These Wine Bar beats, sending me, favorably, as always.  Today’s cubeNOTES, more than useful.  Have to hold, in disseminating vinoLitLetterz.  Blaming this new phone for such hand.  Either, I’m off to another page, as wine makers hop between barrels, this poet jumps about his many journals.  This is wine; This is Literature.  Those judging, never do so to an oenoRebel’s proscenium.  And that’s fine.  I wouldn’t accost me, either.  I write so much, it’s sick.  This is my religion, as I freestyled on a run the other day.  These thoughts, these free visions, words, compositions, cubist efforts.  Sipping again, with this new device where it should be: taking a backseat to these pages.  Dark, this PS’s notes; melodic, fluid, aggressively cordial.
Looking over my cube scribbles, I see a different set of beautiful burdens blossoming.  Characters, invaluable.  Remember, readers, I’m a spy.  And I don’t mean that to sound menacing, cunning, or self-centric.  It’s candor.  It’s honesty, disclosure of who I truly am.  A WRITER.  -9/12/2011, Monday

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