Bottle of wine. Damn it. Open it once, and it is open to everything. It’s never again free from the outer air. Swik! Pop! Open. Oxidation. Begins. The history inside the bottle has been freed like the genie in Aladdin. (Not the Disney Aladdin. The real one. Where the kid is a right rat bastard and would drive one to drink.) The history escapes. The air invades. The wine’s purity of essence goes all ephemeral. It will never be again as good as one hour from now. Welcome to the decay of bouquet. Feel and flavor are dying moment by moment. Best to drink it all right now. Right! But...alone? That’s 750 milliliters of tomorrow’s price to pay. However, cork it and put it away for another day, where is the good in that? It becomes a mere ghost of today’s delight. A faint reminder of the wonder it was this day. But what is the alternative? Boxed wine? Call a spade a spade: a cardboard container holding a plastic bladder filled to overflowing with screaming headaches. Wine in a can? Just jam it in your can’t. Bottle is best. But after right now, it never is at its best. Drink to drunk, or dishonor the drink. Mournful that wine dies this day. And that I no longer can drink like a Skid Row bum with a Napa Valley budget. Half empty? So sad. Damn it. Bottle of wine. My life is a hell.
This is hard for me. My life is a hell. Be afraid. Or you will join me. TFTD: WTH?