Confessions Of A Red Wine Drinker.

 I want to write to you about things more personal than your own thoughts. My deepest fear swallowed by confessions that would make even the most honest man feel deceptive. I want to speak to you of the things I see while sitting still and fearing for my life. What you will think is of no concern to me since I have nothing to loose. When a person understands the inevitability of their mortality- artifice is of no concern. What matters most are those things left unsaid, and it is my intention to say it all even though it may be in the form of metaphor or fiction. There is no greater satisfaction that I feel than in the wide open spaces of coming clean. Whether it be stories about lust or confessions of grief and self-deprecation, the purpose of these words is to paint a picture of my soul struggles to see.

I could tell you about the setting sun, the streets of San Fransisco that are filled with frenetic energy and the sounds of a coming spring. I could describe the faces of passengers on passing cable cars as I sit here in this small wine bar drinking red wine and observing this strange reality before me. I could tell you how somnolent or natural it all seems even though I am slightly drunk and filled with fear because my heart beat refuses to slow. External observations could occupy my entire life but the intensity of my inner sensitivities and proclivities has drawn me inwards like a fish stuck to a sharp hook. There is no where else for me to go. I suffocate when I try to run from my lies and am disabled by my greed when I try only to think of my life in terms of material achievement. Sure the sky is ablaze with an orange hue given off by the setting sun and the sound of a saxophone sings out all its jazz in the cafe basement- but what does any of this got to do with with what really sets my soul afire?

There is noise- always noise. Possibly my heart has been weakened by all this noise but I seek to strenghten my heart by coming clean about all I think and feel. Even though I am short of breath- my eyes follow the breasts and butts of babes when my mind shouts words of condemnation towards the man I have become. The words are heavy and hit hard but then I remember that I am also filled with a love that no force could undermine. I accept these words echoed by my mind as a passing fancy in time and realize there is so much more to this life than meets the mind. Noise is every where, but if one is listening with an open mind all the sudden noise becomes a multi-layered ballad of sound.

These may be the ramblings of a drunken man who has survived the tempestual struggles of yet another anxiety attack. I saw my end as clear as the face that appears in the mirror, but somehow I am still here being stared at by many in this cafe who are puzzled by my frenetic fingers typing away like a man in love with words. They watch me and listen thinking that maybe I have something important to say but then go back to the work that so preoccupies their passing hours on this earth. Maybe I am mad, but my struggle to come to terms with my own end has brought me closer to a truth I could never re-arrange. With death always looming over my shoulder the colors of life seems to stand out so brightly that I am blinded by their beauty. I want it all- the women, the love the wine, the fear, the sky and the air!! While I am here I want to say yes!! to everything that comes my way despite the fear that at times forces me to say no and stay stuck in my room. It is always and forever that I am learning to set free. Once death teaches us that there is nothing to posses we are left to roam freely without any desire to get to the next place.

The sun has set and I am only beginning my confession. If the light was warmer I may be inclined to stay and write but I am feeling to preoccupied by these endless words. This poem could go on for years and years but then I will miss the setting sun. I would miss spending time with my fears and getting lost in my thoughts which tend to think about things that never seem to be. I will order yet another glass of wine and watch the sun fully rest into the sea until the city becomes dark and I am left to loiter in my mind which is an endless narrative about nothing at all.


  1. Great write, Randall and this:

    Once death teaches us that there is nothing to posses we are left to roam freely without any desire to get to the next place

    is so true (my father died a little while ago and it certainly changes your perspective on a lot of things).

  2. Great. These last two feel like a change of direction. I loved the little bits of description that you were looking away from, looked up from the keyboard, looked down again, really cool writing especially when you put say the last three, the previous one, this one and the next one in a row, different types of honesty, a much clearer voice, for me anyhow, in other words yayayayayayay, really supercool writing prose style adaption thingo, yayayay!

  3. lol, oh me oh my, i love this. probably because i’ve had my fair share of red wine tonight, needless to say, i love you! why can’t i be as honest as an empty glass…

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