Me, Myself, and I

a view into the strange place, that is my mind.

I dreamed dream in which I said my final goodbye
now my heart does not feel the need to cry.
The shackles that kept me bound are broken,
bloody from where they cut me deep
I’m free as any creature can be,
free to sing in the dead of night.
Ignoring the invisible puppet strings
that urge me to take the android’s vow
promising to follow the 1’s and 0’s that predict our lives.
We come to realize that there were never two roads diverge in a yellow wood
only two roads that lead to same end.
You take a few steps forward toward the worn and rugged path
hoping that you can travel it differently.

The journey into the unknown.
Each step you take becomes more hesitant
wishing you could return to where life was certain.
Back to the known and her safe and comforting arms.
We are left with nothing but our memories.
They haunt us with the past, taunting us to return.
Telling ourselves a story of the past.
We revel in these illusions of the mind.
Held prisoner by our thoughts.

Our mind is a prison from which we cannot escape.
The memories, faithful and loyal, are always there,
eager to present itself at the slightest touch.
Waiting like a loaded gun ready to fire with just the faint touch of the trigger.
Memories linked together, like the minute intricacies of a spider’s web.
We are reminded the of good
but are held captive by heartache
unable to break this unfortunate bond to set them free.
We regret reminiscing in our memories
and choose to exist in the now rather than enduring the pain of the past.
It taints our memories reminding us why we took the first step toward the unknown.

behindhipstaland:

Photos and Words by Jen Pollack Bianco

In 1843 an outside-the-bottle thinker named Joseph Krug established a champagne house with the intent of taking sparkling wine to the next level.  He succeeded. For six generations, Krug’s golden liquid deliciousness has created a loyal following of super fans the family-run brand embraces and calls “Krug Lovers.”

Located in Reims, France, the House of Krug is not open to the general public. So scoring a private tour made me feel like Charlie winning a golden ticket and a visit to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory, but way more fun because it involved adult beverages instead of oompa-loompas!

Immersion into the Krug universe started at 10 in the morning when my tour guide (and Krug’s international PR manager), Blandine de Navacelle, popped open a bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee, and poured me a glass. “French Breakfast,” she called it. That’s how they roll in Reims. So I learned about Krug’s five prestige cuvees while day drinking and touring Krug’s private cellars. After tasting the vintage 2000 I could say the words “bright, brioche finish” without sounding like a tool. Brewing some of the world’s finest bubbly requires both old school artisanal craftsmanship (each bottle is turned by hand daily during the fermentation process) and the latest in technology (the metal wine vats looked like something straight out of Walter White’s meth lab on Breaking Bad).

It takes a tasting committee (yes, that is a real occupation) and a blend of about 120 different sample wines and 20 years to make each bottle of Grand Cuvée. Seeing the attention to detail and human element involved explained why Krug is so exceptional. 

In 2011, Krug began adding a six digit Krug ID on each bottle’s label. entering the Krug ID into the brand’s website lets Krug Lovers learn more about the story behind those very bubbles. Cheers to that!

This is pretty cool!