Opened the other night, with family.  My parents and the Nurse were over, my kids too.  We talked and laughed, didn’t deconstruct or talk about the wine at all.  We were present in the room, at the table.  And that’s how it is with wine often.  You’re not fucking talking about it or focusing on what you poured, who knows what and the structure and tannins and flavonoids or whatever.

US.  Family.  The people.  Heading back to the industry this is very much my tone and practice.  Still though, this Cab surprised me.   Don’t know much about the label other than what I’ve read on their website, and having tasted the SB prior to this bottled music.  Soft and easy, playful and music in the way I hope to feel and experience from a pour.

This blog, and book, living showing and sharing. I am on a mission to get back to the industry, from tech life.  And now, the Road is pronounced.  And this is one of the anchors in that paginated contour.

Wrote in my other journal and blog that I will have that goddamn vineyard.  Those exact words, that exact attitude.  And that is where I will remain vocally, to be sure.  It should be known, now, forever, decreed – I will only write from wine and the vineyards, and I will land on a vineyard with the Nurse.

Last night’s Cab further personifying itself.  A coach or mentor, therapist, telling me to toughen, to believe the vineyards voices, the call, the book, wine wine WINE— All your experiences in the tasting room.  Your sister and the Chardonnay she made last year and that you tasted last night.

Composition materializing in a way it hasn’t before.. Wild wine pages and notes, sketches.  No conventional composition or sentences.  The Cab urged defiance last night, and architecture but still a free-spirited frame and fervor.  And it’s not the wine, really.  But the memories of the tasting room, what people would say when they walk in and approach the bar, asking “How does this work?” That always made me laugh, not always out loud.

“How do you think it works?” I’d say to myself. Not from spite, but like a HUH sort of reaction.  The Eco Cabernet and the dinner, family, had me smiling, remembering where it started.  I’m rambling and I don’t care.  Not rambling, but writing freely.  No conventions or constrictions.

Looking at the label, knowing more this new story and mission.  Seeing that first vineyard walk with her…. Flawless.  The way it’s written, before I grip any pen, or touch any keys.  It’s already there.  I’m just translating, transposing, putting one dimension and time in another… enduring toothsome drum.