Whenever vineyards start releasing their 2008 wines, I’ll most likely skip that year. Fermented grape juice from these particular 365 days won’t taste delicious to me.
2008 will always have the acidity of blood in my mouth after smashing my skull, cracking teeth and breaking my neck. The delicacy of the grapes will swirl like a spinal cord no longer protected by bone, but by two titanium plates and eight screws. Long after the wine travels down my throat there will be an aftertaste of Valium addiction, survivor’s guilt, arthritis, nearly two feet of new surgical scars, thousands of dollars worth of hospital bills and people asking "What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Will you ever be okay?"
This year’s grapes felt the wrath of choking in a shirt and tie every Monday through Friday, the utter atrocity of being alone surrounded by hundreds of humanized robots, only to be laid off while in convalescence. After pounding the pavement and the unemployment line, it was back to tending the bars of the classless, which is much more enlightening than sitting in a cubicle with the gutless.
Wine of 2008 will finish with the acrid flavor of close quarters, heartbreak, layoffs, injuries, my three near deaths, my grandfather’s close encounter with the skull man and the passing away of too many good friends.
However, the year proved successful for the beginning of new lives and loves, which is always a boon. Many happy weddings happened and will happen next year. Even though I’m happily single I found new affection for writing, health, friends, "Battlestar Galactica," "Venture Bros." and relaxation techniques. Some of the people I’ve met this year are the best, brightest and funniest people I’ve ever met. My close friends are still close. I found out the hard way. You can’t ask for much more.
This year might have beaten the shit out of me, but 2009 better watch its ass.The funniest thing about wine from 2008 is that I don’t really like wine. So all these sour grapes can fuck themselves. I’m a whiskey guy.