While writing this blog post it is becoming a late Tuesday evening and currently I am taking in the flavors of a short glass of red wine at a neighborhood bar while decompressing from a fairly uneventful night at work. The establishment is slowly trimming its occupancy and the echoes of underlying musical instrumentals humming from ceiling speakers are starting to overcome the fleeting murmurs of its remaining patrons.
It's been what feels like a lifetime since updating this blog and for that I am truly sorry, especially to those who have taken time out of their day to read it. It's hard to say if the effects of drinking this liquid inspiration as it sits effortlessly alongside my typing hands is the true influence for this current post or if there is something more important on my mind that is worth writing about. Despite the fact not a great deal of time has passed since the days of consistent blog updates I can sense brooming sweeps of frustration invading my mind as I struggle to decide whether this entry should just be deleted due to insoficient reader content. In the past there had always been an underlying reason for adding another chapter to this growing index of random life accounts but at this exact moment there sits a vacant mental block of absolutely nothing. A creeping urge to pay my tab and exit the bar lingers in the cold outside but my hands keep wanting to continue their seemingly hopeless romantic crusade of simply writing SOMETHING.
Despite the internal wall of writer's block breathing over my literary shoulder the thumbs of my hands keep dancing on my phone's keyboard as if a familiar tune had just starting playing from the nearby stereo. Pausing for air to scan the horizon above my screen, I take a quick sip of my beverage sensing that the energy of the room is slowly escaping and the faint noises of keyboard clicks and wine glasses reconnecting upon bartop are the only two distinguishable elements computing within my consciousness.
After a series of transitions from glass in hand to glass upon bartop I realize that I haven't been drinking any of my wine; the only thing I've been doing is staring at its miniature crimson tides as they swirl along the walls of their oval shaped confinement. My right hand keeps lifting and rotating the faintly transparent liquid in front of me then silently plummetting its container back to its location of origin, completely disrupting its circular motion. For being so peaceful and docile relative to everything else capable of grabbing my attention in the room the miniature swells rippling from side to side bring boisterous echoes of unpredictable change and my gaze is now fully trapped within its spheracle trap. Perhaps the instincts of my hands are aware of something that my mind can't sense, at least not yet.
My body shivers as a slight breeze is beginning to whisper through the establishment and I suddenly realize that the place is fully vacant except for me and the practically unconsumed drink staring back at me. Its a cue to leave so I pay the bartender and make for the dimly illuminated exit sign. The faint hint of wine being freed into an unseen sink could be heard as I close the door behind me and blend into the blustery darkness.
