Ode to Feeling & Wine, and also Beer

It's been a while since I had a beer, but I'm having beer tonight, Stella to be precise. Lord knows, I have always liked an ice cold beer. I learned to love wine later, red wine especially. So many occasions in the late 1990s of my life can be benchmarked by consumption of red wine.

But I have always loved beer. I have always loved super crazy cold beer. Frosty, nearly frozen beer. So here's the ode to feelings, as we have already discussed wine... and beer.

There are things and people in life that are within reach that make you feel more whole than you did a moment ago. The delicious artisan bread with olive oil and Manchego, the person in line at the coffee shop that smiles and says, "Go ahead, I'm still making up my mind."

These are moments that are small, fleeting, warming for just a moment. Wishing for the big ones only leaves you wishing -- and forgetting about the small ones that mean so much.

There's pulsation and true pleasure in getting to know who you are in such small moments. What may seem insignificant becomes your Ode to Feelings, or at least it has for me.

I reach and pray for such moments. I wish and wish and love them all. I try to remember that while a lot of my life has been painful, or painted painful to be more correct, I still have the ability to see and recognize what greatness is out there, all across the world.

It is great wine, great beer, great people.

There are lights on in this house that ought not be, nonetheless, there are undulations that creep into every soul that enliven it from time to time. I fear there is a scarcity in feelings that my soul cannot tolerate. And so it seeks to feel where feelings call like sirens out to them.



Drawing what is far away nearer if it soothes cannot be bad. Conversely, remembering what is near that daunts me is always worth the dangerous chance of forgiving, loving, tempting when I can.

There's been enough now to toast over, to trash houses over, to enslave myself to, to count, to stop counting, to thresh out, to throw out, and now to reinvigorate.

There are no dogs in a fight that makes me walk shore-side blissfully. There are no dogs in a fight that strengthen my feeling that goodness remains in this world. And there are no fights when feelings, like wine, are opened just when there is no exact occasion to open them for.

Salud, Cheers, a toast to wine and feeling, the pallet that makes humanity real again for me.