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”
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