New day and new understanding.  Purpose, purposeful, after the glass or two of the Rombauer Cabernet last night with the Nurse.  Late, when I arrived home.  Soft and assertive with bewildering language in its fruit-earth bind and rhymes.

I am coming back to wine’s story, and I need to paginate everything here.  Yes, this will eventually be a shop, store, small label, yes, but I need to put on lines how I arrived.  In telecom and tech now and at 45 and in the year where I turn 40-fucking-6 I’m realized in a vinified sight.  Newer and with more truth, like this Cab.  Animated and ghostly with velvet throws of wild blackberry ink, tattooed on my soul and its every ambition.  Ambient, encircling, beautifully blurred dimension, scene, character curve.

Writing as I used to, and only allowing SELF to chase passion in this wild wine written ride.  My BEAT, this has to be it.  BE-AT.

I’m AT a place of understanding and gratitude, realization that I should never again leave or be fucking distracted by the perceived obligatory…

When VinoVineVin is a location, somewhere into which you walk and look around see what gems and odd characters sit on shelf, then the notes will really compile.  I’ll see even more in my purpose like I do this morning while the Nurse is at her site and I’m here dreading a sales meeting.

All short lived, this role for me.  Telecom, and I’m teleporting SELF in a way with these pages back to the vineyard.  And I’m not allowed to leave.