Saturday, December 19, 2009

UnAvailable VineYards - InsIncere Sancerre

A long, long time ago there was a reason to get out of bed in the morning and that reason had blonde hair and that reason had skin like strawberries if strawberries could be what they dream they are and that reason had class and experience and understood you and understood your pain and understood that you couldn't change even though you wanted to more than anything and understood that when you said you wanted to change you meant it in your bones and understood that you would definitely fail and understood that you didn't understand this and had lips like the deep and bloody pools of honest combat, and could stand up to you and could dominate you and could make you feel 100 feet tall and had blonde hair that sang in electric light and was incandescent and rose up off the palate in gentle waves like the distortion of heat off a metal car hood and its one of the things you did miss about the past and she was clear about what she wants, clearer than you, clearer than anyone you've known before her but it didn't make her less complicated and it didn't do anything to shallow out her mystery and despite all that was still characteristic of the region in terms of both forward thinking political views and minerality and had blonde hair which could also be called flaxen or goldenrod or peach or sunshine or egg yolk or pineapple or which gave rise to a frantic search for a place to land as the flavor profile expanded and grew to include room for experiment and deliberate or almost deliberate vagueness which is after all what attracted you to each other in the first place and was it not your fault, insisting as you did that the trial period be called a trial period, that it ended when it did and the way it did, and was it furthermore not your own doing that the notes of cherry fell to the granite wheel of unintentionally oaky pillow, and who could forget the blonde hair that didn't really look anything like a sunrise but which nonetheless, like sunrise, was the first thing on your mind when you woke up and, in that regard, nothing changed from before the split until after the split, in terms of the first thing you thought about upon waking being the same both before and after even though the implications of that early morning wistfulness changed dramatically especially in terms of what follow-up action was available to you, specifically a move away from a climate of productive possibility to one defined by the inappropriateness of any action at all, and isn't that why you started drinking at all and isn't that why you were moved to browse the shelves of the wine shops in the first place knowing full well that whatever purchase you made would end up as your exclusive company that evening and the next and perhaps would make its presence known even the next morning rather than taking whiskey in a bar where it belongs and where the price point was too high, much too high to make it a reasonable proposition considering how many you planned to put away and isn't her blonde hair the reason you choose white instead of red so that you can live out your silent homage to her even though there were things you could have done to prevent this point from arriving and there is still the possibility of a proto-effervescence or an illusory one that is part of what give the pairings such coarse elegance and there is something in the background that recalls your reason to get out of bed in the morning a long, long time ago.

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