of au naturale manipulation…

I keep forgetting the void that forms when girth is restricted or removed, the space formerly so densely taken up so pronouncedly hollow when vacated, like a finally digested over-stretched stomach after a Thanksgiving gorging or when the Wal-Mart needs a new mega location and leaves the old semi-mega location behind, abandoned… empty. Something is missing. Something needs to be found to take something’s place.

Structure and balance exist because lethargy and waste do not. The shellac and sauce are left out of the process. The salt and pepper shakers are dropped off at the local Good Will, sub-miniature Darleks for the next Dr. Who season. This quest for purity is born anew even with a considerable amount of recklessness because  the most basic and fundamental of procedure must have an injection of character and personality… and with character and personality rides the cowboy lurks the visionary.

We looked around at each other with the same eyebrow raised. Where’s all the fruit? Where’s the hugeness, the bombascity, the bodacious-ness, the power? There was so much covered up, disguised, that needed to be peeled back and that had nothing to do with the wine. The wine needed no blanket to hide an embarrassment. The blend in each bottle, single varietal or not, was a light mixture of subtlety ready to compliment something of the same. Once we figured that out, we enjoyed.