Friday, April 3, 2009

Gun Street Girl

I've seen it in photographs. Dirty sparking poison-metal. Tips a hat and says how do you do, but downs it not sips it. Not the kind of grape to meet in an alley or a helicopter running out of fuel. Comes complete with private island, eye patch, unusual name, missing background, inexplicable hatred for the good guy, any good guy. Possibly didn't even come from a grape, but a wolf in grape's closing. The opening starts with absolute absurdity, would be comic if not so trite. Hackneyed, lousy, and parasitic.

Then steps up to the side of right and justice with a radiating non-forensic circular thing. A rather explosion, unless ghost practice spills, it's not eleven out of ten that way. Things could not be better now, sunshine and lollipops and gum drops and fairy lanes. Spurns lovers before breakfast, races cars at noon, naps in the early evening, commits espionage after midnight.
A chocolate-strawberry bruise opens on a cloud-hole over Peace Field. British extravagance replanted in a much bigger pot.

Stars drop out of the cubic sky, turn out not to be so big after all, and steam out in the pliant citrus-clay earth. Smoke beneath the feet of marching women, dancing women, cannibal women on the moon.

Pairs well with self-strengthening, overconsumption, wild sapphic ecstasy, camping in the woods with your best girl friends and a pale gay god. The kind of wine that explodes out of a snapped sapling and covers the hill in raw purple. This only works if you're a god of course.
Drink it in revenge!
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!
Behold this infinite party in a bottle!
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!
Royalty has no stance and will soon have no head!
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!
750 ml is more than Semele weighed afterwards!
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!
Drink it to tear down the palace!
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!

When the haze clears and she sees the head and she's shamed by the chorus and there are pretty much no winners except for the pale alcoholic rich kid again, then things get very bitter. But the muddlement never unfuddles. The vintners of the region have handed down for generations already the secret of the thing. It's how that ending comes true like that. It's why the wine can be said to be cathartic despite the predictably female bad judgement of drinking wine to the point of insanity and destroying the world.

Varietal: Gun Street
Food Pairing: No food necessary. Drink it to the point of insanity and destroy the world.

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