Can I have some of what he is drinking?

If in all of life’s ups and downs we resorted to the bottle then we would be a planet of inebriated souls.  I prefer to have a relevant more austere positive approach to life, so my thoughts tend to guide me in the following manner.  We are not a planet of drunks, quite the contrary we are a planet of humans who are just a sand pebble spec on the aliens that cruise the the great milky way map.  For those of you who are high, I am making a galactic reference and not one to your appetite from a drag on another form of excess.  

I really am going to just ramble here but oh well, life finds me in my backyard with a nice little glass of wine from Casanova di Nerri from Italy.  Its actually a pretty interesting wine.  It has great depth.  Fine balance between the tannins and the fruit.  It actually has achieved its peace within the bottle.  I on the other hand found my peace without thinking. 

Several days back I was on the dark side of the moon cursing the stars from far away universes trying to remember a simple password for a very important file.  I tried everything in my arsenal of weapons.  Every Van Halen album failed miserably.  Every birthdate, sports team, bottle of wine, ex, song, superhero, you name it I tried it unsuccessfully.  I was beyond miserable, I was drinking to remember.

Finally after utter and I do mean complete utter failure was ready to pack it in.  I was at “Fuck it!”  going to reboot and lose all of this information.  Then I was saved by a question, “Did you save it on your phone?”  Hello!  Genius I have never claimed, dumbass?  Absolutely.  Well now for the love of life it will never fail me, for the record my new password is, “DUMBASS”  in caps.  Just to scream at my stupidity.

During this priceless moment or rather delay of my time here on this planet, started thinking about what keeps us company?  Some simple answers, family, friends, sports, books, this idiotic blog, but ultimately the answer is in the mirror.  We keep ourselves company!  Some people fantasize about things that are beyond reason and some live with out reason.  At the end of the day, much like tonight my thoughts are always the same.  

Right before I walked inside the house, took a moment to stare at the sky and realized that my stars have always been aligned.  Realized that there is an alien from Omega Centauri looking at his stars to see if they are aligned and taking a sip from his sauce and quietly toasting his life.   

Much like my friend from Omega here is my open letter of thought or simply put what occupies the space between my ears.  “............................

Salut.

The color of my life...

Grabbed a cup of superman, found the appropriate cigar, sunglasses, flip flops on, walked outside to my sunrise.  Blue sky, clear of any clouds, a slight breeze, the jagged smile of last nights thoughts.  I wasn’t waiting on a flight, was searching for a warm embrace to time.  Staring at the sky it is obvious that there are reds, whites, purples, and an array of other rainbow colors associated with a sky.  What was this day going to be like?

Just last night was contemplating the signs of the times and I realized how much the warmth of an embrace can etch the fear of life in one.  Of course there is great joy when innocence is established.  Some people wrap their soul around you and one can feel it run through your soul much like the ivy crawls up the chapel walls.  Your heart fills with the blisters of love when this happens.  

Then of course there is the eruption of the gas main embrace, where your dammed if you do and dammed if you don’t.  If a person is cutting onions and tears are running down the face, is it because of the burn of the onion or the burn of life?  Can one live within the truth of time?  Honestly live within the piel that has been bestowed on them?  Okay maybe to harsh.  

Drink a glass of truth, albeit your truth!  Last night my truth was in a glass of single barrel jack, on the rocks, with a twist of lemon.  It spoke volumes to the way you miss someone when they are gone.  The sounds of the night was a symphony in A minor.  It was mesmerizing!  The night was driving me insanely crazy, acutely aware that your presence had faded from my thoughts in a surreal manner.

“Can I see the wine menu?”

Peace of mind is knowing that in a great bottle of wine I can cure the bruised and battered sketches of my life.  With each swirl, you attempt to find the strokes of life.  I can easily unwrap the words that have escaped my emotions.  “You know what?  I don’t know shit about wine but feel like drinking a good bottle of wine.  Impress me.”  The waiter looked at me as if there was a great conspiracy about to happen.

This child walked back and probably searched the wine cellar for something wondering or as I romantically would rather perceive cursing my ass out, he grabbed the first bottle that he could.  Was hoping he did so with out thought to every breath that I take.  Returning the child was now a boy, who dared to show me the bottle.  It made sense, since he was growing up in front of my arrogant ass.

He poured the glass and stared at me not for appreciation for what he had just chosen but for he was now a king amongst men.   “What do you think?”  The words were like a rainbow of colors, his blue was not within him.  His red was lost in thought walking back to the cellar.  The white of his soul was that he was going to pick the most expensive bottle for the arrogant asshole on table 3.  Purple would just signify the confidence of a King.  

It was his rainbow of thoughts that spread across my canvas.  “Why this bottle?” A wicked smile crossed his face.  You could tell that time had not a hair nor pin of a crinkle in his smile.  His confidence was dripping from those words, “Its money every time...Can’t go wrong unless your Rick Ramos.”

I smiled, and my blue sky this morning suddenly had an array of those colors.  The red from last nights was still painted in my heart.  My white was the glare of the right or wrong of time.  Purple was my love for life.  As for my rainbow, it was in a bottle of all things, Queen of Hearts Pinot Noir, irony has a new name.

So here I find myself 24/7 later editing words, changing the soul from a man who loves a clear blue sky but is okay if its cloudy with a storm on the horizon.  As for the wine, it had deep blue berry flavors with a hint of red burgundy color to it.  With the white spice of time, yet the enduring patience of a purple landscape.  The child became a boy who became a king amongst men.  

“So what do you think?”

“Not bad.  Good choice.  Tomorrow I’m going to Sherman Williams to buy the colors of my life.  As for Rick Ramos, don’t worry, he’s an asshole.”  My tab was 126.00 for a glass of thoughts and a bottle of love.  The tip was 100.00 for understanding what a Pinot Noir means to me.  His bruised soul looked at me, a smile crossed his soul, and asked, “What’s your name?”

Santé

How goes it Sunshine?

After walking off the clouds this morning and into a jet plane trying to out run the sunrise, life became a little bit simple.  This will arguably be my Picaso.  My Symphony #5.  It will be my P. Diddy or is it Puffy Combs.  Who knows and who cares when a guy can’t just say his name is Carl or Tom or Bob for that matter.  We speak in tongues sometimes and if you add a little alcohol I speak spanish as well.  Some will argue its not Spanish...but its not their Blog.

There is this bottle of wine I covet.  It is not hard to acquire, just down right irresponsible.  Many moons ago on the 5th of a day, crawling out of the dungeon of time a man inquired about his demons.  In walking out he dragged his feet so that he could prolong the memory.  It was calculated one step in front of the other.  He was not sleep walking,  he had just woken from the slumber of time.  He was stuck.

Empowered he gave reason to things and pulled up his dictionary to find out what it meant to lose.  What he saw appalled him.  There was no definition, no regard to meaning, instead, there in black and white was his picture.  He didn’t take a second glance, didn’t have to.  The moon had long ago left the reflection of the night with someone else.  He crawled into a corner to find a reason.

Domaine Romanee Conti La Tache 1996!  She became the obsession, the joy of his soul.  He never stopped loving her, she fit in his heart but now it was time to find another bottle to grace his lips.  Sure one day he would again open that bottle and he would enjoy the fruits of her time, just not now.  Maybe not tomorrow or maybe just never.  Ravished by this wanton desire to find his grail of truth, he continued to search.

There in the middle of a land so beautiful all he could do while driving in silence was scream at the pure beauty.   The rearview mirror showed him the shades of the day he knew he could let a bottle breath, but could he?   Time to realize those demons, the sunlight was escaping, it was taking his heart, he needed all of this to go away, he needed to open up to life.

Walking into the cellar of this man, this God who had given birth to life, he was stitched in silence watching him as he explained every intricate detail about his creation.  The excitement was that of an adolescent who just discovered the Sears Lingerie section.  A perversion to watch something so personal.  Stimulating as it was, he could not wonder about her.  Would she be okay?  Would she understand his excitement?  Would she scream like never before?  Would she ever run to the top of a mountain and scream at the world, “I love you.”

He opened her house and like a thief in the night, gently she succumb to his presence.  She was exquisite.  Gentle and graceful, her legs were difficult to fathom.  Her lagrimas could drive a man crazy.  Why me?  Why did God put your soul in front of me?  What did I do to deserve you?

Rich, vibrant, her perfume was intoxicating.  While jealousy is not within me she could drive a man into an asylum of thoughts.  I didn’t covet her, she had to be mine.  Impossible and surreal as it all seems, he began to speak, “she is my lover.”  We were one and the same this new friend of mine.  I excused myself from the room.  Walked out into the darkness to explain my life.  “This will define the rest of my life!”  Did she listen to the words as they dripped from inside of me? 

One day it will be written that on this glorious day of eternity my heart skipped a beat with your answer.  For you did steal my soul.  You ravished it and became diligent to its existence.  “I want you.  I want all of you.  I don’t want to share you with anyone.  I want to make sure that the world understands the way you move.  I want to steal you from your creator.  How you dance in the glass as he holds you tight.  My heart melts with an insane jealousy.  You have become my endless love.”

Later that night his chest hurt.  It pounded the night sky into tiny little stars with one shinning brighter than all the rest.  He had to tell her.  So he stumbled with his words and somewhere in the middle of his emotion, he remembered.  “Your kind of love is forever.”  

It was a day of drinking.  It was a day of celebration.  Was she that good?  He defined her by being oblivious and kind.  He made sure to tell her she was not important to him.  After all he had his Domaine Romanee Conti La Tache 1996 to dream about.  Then finally he said, “enough!”  After allowing her some time to be idle and unbothered he took his camera and took her picture.  He loved it.  She loathed it.

The lipstick stained glass, had color again, her terroir was silky, she was sessy.  She found her new lover and it made her scream for attention.  Then he poured her into a beer glass.  He still would not give her the time of day.  She breathed life into him.  His solitude new she was the one.  His soul new to run fast.  He picked up the phone, “You have no idea how beautiful she is.  I stare at her and she enthralls me in silence.  Meet me down stairs.”

Who will explain to me that she is not mine?  Without thinking about reality, my steps were slower and more devout of energy.  At any moment she would walk away, she had crawled into the heart and now had found her own reason to exist.  “So what do you think?”  I asked? 

I’m always in the habit of making two toast.  A funny one and a serious one.  First the serious one, “Time will give me an eternal flame of love.  It will also teach me to live.  Life will show me the scars.  And only the sunset can heal them.”  And now the funny one, “What did you guys think?  Seriously?  I’m in love with a bottle of wine that has a name...that in itself requires therapy.  So hurry somebody get me a bottle of Domaine Romanee Conti 2006!  As for her name...soon”

Never forget where your came from. Never forget that you could fly. Never forget a sunrise. Never forget a sunset.

There I was sitting at the bar inside Terminal 2 at the Benito Juarez Airport in Mexico City enjoying a Jack, Mineral Water, and a splash of Coke Cola for color.  A very important soccer game was on the screen.  Couldn’t tell you who was playing but the standing room only crowd probably could have.  They gasped with every errant shot and screamed when a goal was made, it was a scene straight from a Victor Fleming movie.  

I started writing down words that best described my mood, there was incredible joy mixed with a sense of not.  The first thing that popped in my mind were words put together to have a definition.  “No one gives a shit about what the sky looks like when the sun sets!”  It wasn’t that it disturbed me, more to the fact of how we fail to see what is in front of us.  

Inherent are the days when two people are together and fail to see what surrounds them.  The fear of danger dissipates by the bond of those seconds.  Do we deserve those seconds?  We learn to appreciate those seconds years later when they don’t exist.  To learn the quirks of another human being is not love but rather the difference between wanting and deserving.  Much can be said about love.  I have seen it come and go and have run away from it.  The love that surrounds me is greater than who I am.  

What can one give someone rich with love in their heart?  Seconds. Minutes.  Hours. Moments.  A river that flows into the open arms of the ocean is my cathedral of time.  Endless!  No longer do I need to forgive myself for yesterday because today love is within me!  

There was a day not that long ago inside a room with cold white walls.  Sitting idle in the corner with my thoughts of yesterday as my father fought for his life.  In those moments so much of who I was then, was destroyed.  It was a moment where loneliness found its way into my heart.  In my idle time little by little the layers of who I was were peeled one by one until there was nothing left.  

The moments of uncertainty enlightened me to forgive.  

When the good Doctor came out he sat and grabbed my mothers hand.  Fear instantly found its way into my soul.  Then he spoke of the recovery, he spoke of the strength of this old man.  How he would live another day to bust my balls.  I walked with my friend away from my family and asked as only a friend could ask, “How will he really be?”  

My father lost a couple of seconds of his life to only gain moments with his family.  To cherish those words is beyond reason.  I remember walking outside, standing, staring at the blue sky, with tears in my eyes, realizing how beautiful life was.  It was one of the most beautiful sunrises I had ever witnessed.  

One by one the clouds would come together to form a heart.  There within me was this great love.  There within me was this great responsibility.  Suddenly I was my father.  Going back in my thoughts the sky started to clear of the clouds and suddenly my soul would find a reason when it needed and would be wounded when alone.  

This dubious life within and the struggle to live allowed the darkness to hover over me.  Its face was deep within my bowels.  How could I be the one to carry a torch of life when my own was with out words.  My friends found a reason for me.  Never one to be anyones hero, mine was a heroine.  This simple incredible woman, one who would stand by me forever sensed my hurt.  She of all people could never be nothing but great in my soul.  

I suddenly found myself again.  Nothing mattered anymore but then again her simple words gave me direction.  Life became infinite again.  Now when the smoke of my cigar found its way to the sky it created the clouds that my finger could design into a smile.  My blue sky grey was now a rainbow of lights, my home was no longer my prisoner.  My glass was once again half filled.  

Tonight I sit outside with my cigar and this glass of wine.  The voice inside me is that my sunset is clear.  To run away from it is laughable now.  You can’t escape your own demons you can claim foul but there will always be a Kristie Alexander in this world.  A woman with a heart of gold and uncanny ability to just tell you that life sometimes does get in the way.  So we find a different route.  

Thank you and cheers to my friend Kristie Alexander for finding some unknown reason that day to call me.  To make me realize what life is.  Today I find myself flying again and with the confidence that had left me.  You my friend deserve a million cases of PG...  

My Matias...

Woke up feeling invincible.  Stretched the arms in a V.  Took a deep breath and felt my wings expand.  Arms were open for the love of a brand new day but fearlessly the memory of the day before came crashing down.  If memory serves me well, the tears from laughing, the permanent smile, the thought of running from crazy all were imbedded in the moment.

A smile spread across with abandon with no reason.  We obsessed about bowel movements and a human beings ability to memorize things.  It wasn’t until BY 849 MQ came out that tears and laughter overcame me.  Forget that this unknown woman from Spain was being called crazy, or pendeja it was that we all in some shape or form agreed.  Who are we to define normalcy.  

Sometimes I write bits and pieces of life, gathered much like a puddle collects water.  At times very much like you, I find myself asking, “Rick what the fuck are you talking about?”  Honestly at some point and time there was a purpose.  LMFAO

Reading quite a bit as of late, recently, the brilliance of Jobs, the insanity of Van Gogh, Da Vinci’s Ghost, but its Tessel the Stripper that intrigues me most.  Trust me, there is literature in all of them.  One deals with respect to create while another prolongs our deepest desire to understand crazy.  Its amazing that even now we don’t understand the brilliance of Da Vinci.  Then of course there is our self absorbed presumptuous attitude to women who make a living on a pole. 

My perverted sense of morality allows me to inform you that most strippers are Pre-Med or Pre-Law.  What did you expect?  Seriously?  It’s women that make men go ape shit.  Wait!  Sorry! Its the crazy women, not all women.  Well maybe all.  As a man I have tendencies to be both harsh and yet eloquently empathetic to women.  Forgive me for I have seen the vile of this world and have been out drank by a girl in 6 inch stilettos at one time or another.  

If you were to ever ask a man, “Have you ever been to a Strip Club?” and there answer is no.  It is not because they are lying, its because our moral sense of obligation is to keep you women from going crazy.  For the record this has become a rant.  Have no clue where this is going.  It started about my Matias (pronounced M-a - Teyeas) and has now run amuck.

So I find myself in the motherland of wine, trying to define crazy!  Vino from the bowels of time yet to be discovered by this wretched soul.  One with a blatant disregard for the norm.  A simple glass created by a sincere man who is his families fifth generation of greatness.  I dare to ask him, “what is your greatest achievement?”  The answer elegantly spoken, his daughters walking in his families footsteps.

Swirling his magical glass of wine, I took time to stair into her eyes.  Her definition was Pinot Noir, princess, woman, and lover and yet she had with-in her a dubious desire to breath.  Temperamental, spicy, salt of the earth, soave, seductive, and painfully beautiful.  She was without words or expression.  Fear set in, how could such an oxymoron of flavors be encapsulated in one person?  

The glass sat idle.  I could here her breathing.  It was beyond the definition of any soul much less mine.  Quietly she was expressing herself.  She laughed.  She smiled.  She was full of wanton desire.  Her truth was melting my soul and slowly she met my lips.  Did she know where she was from?  Did she care?  I felt her touch, her warmth, indeed she was making me crazy.

Ironically after all of these years my tendencies are to point out the similarities between a Woman and Pinot Noir.  In time they have become one.   The fact that women who tend to love Pinot Noir are devastating creatures of thought scares me more than a bottle of Alexana.

My deep dark secret lady of thought continues...only she and I.  Maybe one day.  Maybe someday.  Maybe tomorrow I will share with all of you what crazy is to me but tonight its just you and me and this last glass of Jack (the bar ran out after having me here for 8 days).  The Beef Tartar reminds me to breath.  Then again it was the “hey not there means hey not there!” that made us all laugh even more.  Sante’