The Confounded and the Furious
Ah, the bright sunlit days of my impeccable, iridescent, innocent youth when I first discovered vinous pleasures that confounded my ethereal senses - while still delivering earthly delights that fixated my slightly post-adolescent astonishment on the eternal recurring themes: those subtle elegiac instances which transcended and transported time, as well as denoting my innate corporeal being, all the while reinforcing the complex - but still obviously obvious - cohesion of time, space and, as always the land - yes, always the land, the land that brought forth the expository genius of time, the works of generations of my most worthy ancestors - and well, yes it must be truthfully admitted - some not so worthy ancestors, all of whom were dancing the endless ballet of time, space and yes, the land - always the land, the land that formed the irrevocable backdrop for that which devolved in an increasingly chaotic - and yet pragmatic - descent, although one could reasonably say that it was rather an ascent, guided by the hand of a beneficent ontology that I knew naught of, so the questions swirled, as did time, space, the land and the deepest demeaning - but still hopefully prescient- sense of my self-acclamation, crying in the wilderness, but not forgotten by providence, and - as always, the land - that rapaciously demanded a response not tempered by timidity, infidelity or undue reticence in manner of professed speech, or pragmatic action: an increasingly stentorian subliminal verbalization that rigorously affirmed the unimpeachable contract to be acknowledged as the solemn truth, forever persevering - almighty, eternal and omnipotent- without clarification, compromise, or needless superfluous confirmation.
About this time, I decided to sign up for Wine 101 at Wine and Song Chicago. Maybe Gilmo, The Wine Pro, could explain some of this stuff. Well anyway, I’ll be an Instant Wine Insider and “Never fear a wine list again”.
