where on each others team - Gruet Blanc de Blanc

On a day like to day, the day before we celebrate our ancestors, I reflect with the rest of the world celebrate life.  in a reflection and through an exploration of self, we play, and dance the dance of dark or light. Happy Halloween.  The dark months of celebration are upon us.  Winter is almost here.

How do you costume you on this day of experimental faces.  Me, I seldom do.  Yet I enjoy the extravagance of others.  Be that slutty cat if you want or be that naughty witch.  Try to fool us as that unlikely super hero.  (trust me to tight and false muscles is not fooling anyone but we love your freedom with it.)  Feel what you want to feel on this night.  Express what you choose to express.  Who am I to judge.

This day can get dark.  In fact, not long ago I felt a ghost and then told her story.  It got Dark, scary and a sad feeling lingered but then we remembered flowers... bubles, aromas of green apples, lemon zest, honeysuckle, and tropical fruit. The light entered back in to the story.

I choice the light, I like to celebrate.  Playfull I prefer the story has a Champagne ending.  Soft on the front of the palate with nice lingering acidity on the finish. Flavors of fresh green apple and pineapple with great structure from top to bottom. We drink Gruet Blanc de Blanc and play flip the script.  Its time to dance

Visions of the Black Wolf - Cos Nero di Lupo

even with the expanse of infinite distance some moments, so perfect, happen in a way that can only be experienced as magic.

Southern Cross is blasting from the speaker.  above the music I'm popping the cork on a bottle of Cos wine.  soon I will be lost in Sicily. And with a sip I am back...

Tasting the wine. Recalling the grape. Imagining the conditions in the vineyard. Feeling the soil, the wind the sun I am there again. recalling friends.  friends there that play water polo, friend here they should know. friends here you should know that are currently vacationing there, enjoying a honeymoon.  millions of thoughts return from that taste of fermented grape juice in a glass.

I am everywhere in the moment lost in the grape...thoughts.  my ramblings... Is it the taste, is it the alcohol, is it the wine maker, is it the vineyard or maybe its just the dreamy music that transport to a Mediterranean sea bound adventure.

I am relaxed again.  writing.  Enjoying thoughts on wine, grapethoughts. feel free to share your thoughts of black wolf with me, no need to leave me drinking alone. I thinks it's a great wine. #GoDawgs    

Fear, Lothing and the NFL - any wine

I should be clinking glasses and saying cheers, football is back and thus the nation has ample reasons to celebrate or commiserate. It all depends on which side of the fantasy argument you find yourself on.  A large portion of the country is involved in fantasy in some way. The numbers might seem staggering.

I however am lost in my own numbers.  Heavily burdened with running backs, no TE and a sub-par producer at the QB position it is going to be tricky to take this team to the playoffs.  I really should get more involved with managing this team. For the second year in a row auto-draft screwed me.  I shouldn't be complaining, in truth, I probably screwed myself.

I'm just nervous as the new season of fantasy is upon us.  New players, new teams, new season.  Really what makes me nervous about my fantasy team is the thought of loosing.  With so many new people into fantasy, even our league has been altered.  For the first season in the history of your league their is a woman among us.  The macho me takes a drink of wine... He doesn't want to lose to a girl.

in to the void - no wine

headphones on, the rest of the world is tuned out. We write
i am a creator.  by telling more story I take charge of my world.  Un-empowered, I don't always enjoy the story others write for me.  then again, I don't always enjoy the story I write for myself but at least on know that story comes from truth.  my story has the best interests in mind for those around me.

My story, sometimes painful, full of lost and missed opportunities, is a story of love.  A story of real life, a story of a quest for love and freedom.  You might say the story you hear me tell is about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, a story of the American Dream.  I would say that dream is a lie.

Others will have you believe in the story of an American dream.  I will tell you that a story not worth listening to.  I would have you listen to the story of your creator, of your unalienable rights to living, loving and perusing those precious moments that connect you to the planet and the world around you.  The moments that take you to a deeper understanding of what it is to be a good human; full of love, understanding, grace and the awe of beauty created for us.  All of it, a shared imagined world for our enjoyment.

Out of the flow, I forget these truths.  I hear the story being told by small minded people.  I fear what has become of us when this is the story we choose to share.  It is dangerous to slave at work chasing an impossible dream.  Give yourself permission to live in a world of your creating.

I write my story down, behind the protection of head phones so I can focus on the power of the music as I conjure up my story.  I'm tell it, I'm finally back to writing. my inspiring story of life, or so they tell me.  I've taken Liberty they say, to follow the beat of a different drummer.  And from my failures to my successes it has always be for the pursuit of happiness readers of my story will note.  They'll tell you it is the american dream, that I've taken advantage of my birth right.

It's just my story that I'm hear to tell you.  Not a dream, nor a reality but rather my story.  Free for you to believe, dream, share or disregard.  It is my story.  Of it, I am the creator.  Know that it is meant to entertain and connect us because in my story I am here to empower you and from my experience the best way to keep your attention while I empower you is to entertain.   so welcome to my story, I hope you enjoy...

Power in the Words - Leonetti Cellars Merlot 2006

their is power in words.  I denied that as a child not wanting to believe their magic had control over me.  I didn't want to say 'em right, i didn't have the patience to figure out how to spell 'em, i just used them to be heard.

I understand their magic now, words. Their agree on meaning creates the power. a language of communal perception is created.  Words therefore have the magic power of defining our reality. So why not take the power of words seriously.

I tell you the wine I'm drinking, Leonetti Cellar Merlot 2006, is a bright, aromatic, vivid wine opening with a bowlful of berries and cherries.  Despite its youth opening, the flavors persist for a remarkably long finish gives you a sense that you know what I'm experiencing.  it might make you curious to try the wine.  My words defiantly effected your thought.  

Their in lies the power, a subtle magic.  Because words shape our communal reality, how I shape the message works on molding your world.  Push on you enough with my words I can create action in your life.

words have power I remind you as I cast this spell  

Getting Old School and Thoughts For My Future

15 years ago would have liked to been where I am sitting right now.  from this vantage, chilling in the sun, enjoying the beverage of my choice.  Instead I was in Vegas.  Beverage of choice in hand, I'm was watching screens when I realized they just blew up the Kingdom.  Years earlier I partied with UCLA after they own that Final Four in that building.

In Vegas, on this day, my beats on tournament games were making money.  Like a baller a give my server a five dollar chip for every free drink.  It felt good in the moment, but then I saw the building come down on a replay.  I should have been there but I had to work.  Who's the baller now I remember thinking as I processed the fact the Kingdom was now gone and like thousands of trees in the woods I wasn't there to hear it make a noise, only memory reminds me it happened.

Back on the hill in the present tense I wonder who is the baller, and what does that mean.  Grown up should I even use that language now.  I need a new job is what I'm thinking now.  Two stadiums now stand where once their was just one.  Fact relives it happened but memory is what makes the moment real.  I can see images in reply but I wasn't there.  I have to admit sometimes I wonder what is real.

What is real in the now, my bracket is busted.  I'm drinking a merlot and not really enjoying it.  Baller his is not me, or perhaps he is.  Tucked in this beautiful moment looking out on the mountains, the sound, Seattle; I'm basking in the sun.  Enjoying this moment on my terms creating a memory.

Who I am, The world I am manifesting? The power of this day for me is wrapped in an image.  I guess I'm left to see if the rest of the universe can see it.  

A Pause For Reflection - Raaai Nieerrr BEER

Who have I become?

I'm standing outside a reopened restaurant, waiting for an once mighty sandwich that i fear now is only an over priced shell of it's former glory. My conversation is with a guy from Boston about a football game that also didn't end well upon revisiting it.  I'm actively breaking the law as I stand on the streets of Seattle drinking a beer.

Who have I become?

where are the insightful tales of wine consumption full of my opinions and tasting notes.  a refined pompous alcoholic is how i once summed up my writing style.  sometimes incoherent blabber, often times poorly spelled and questionable grammar but always lucidly edgy, sprinkled with tidbits of information.  Drunk on wine I remained functional.  Now, I hardly write.  It's been since last summer that I penned my last confession.

Tonight as I await my dinner I live in the past, not caring as I drink my beer.

gone is the forward motion of my story.  Gone is the quest to find pleasant new tastes.  GONE is my interest of how things should be, I now talk of how they once were.  How things use to be better.  I settle for the reliable staleness of a Rainier in a tall can.

I look like a hipster city dweller.  I sound like a grumpy old man.  I've lost my taste for taste, instead relying on the feel of seeming ironic.  Grabbing my sandwich and finishing my beer I walk towards home, it is time for a long look in the mirror.