Wine

This wine’s warm.

It’s, like, natural wine. Pond scum wine. Filled with living things, probably. Like primal soup. Full of nematodes and flukeworms. Parasites, of all kinds.

And we’re drinking it.

Maybe there are good parasites. Like good bacteria.

This wine has its own flora and fauna. It’s populated. It has wildlife.

 

This wine’s moving. There are currents in this wine. Strange blobs – forming and unforming. I think this wine might be sentien, or something. It’s moving – spontaneously. Some serious lava-light shit going on.

 

This wine’s actually bubbling. And its thick. Like some geyser. Like it’s going to erupt at any moment. Like it’s Old fucking Faithful.

 

This is heavy wine. Completely viscous. Like it’s a version of mercury. It’s like that stuff the Terminator 2 guy is made out of. I think it’s going to morph into something. Or extend a prehensile limb.

 

This wine’s shining. It’s noctilucent. It’s sparking, like its full of stars.

Is it supposed to cheer us up near the end of our journey?

 

Shouldn’t we be able to transmute the poison? To change it within us. To let it become something else.

Become what?

Where the poison’s at its deepest, there too is its cure …

*This wine’s, like, a life form. Like an amoeba wine.

It’s got its own interests, this wine. Its own agenda.

It wants to be freed from the glass. It wants to live its own life. Have you ever seen an octopus escape from captivity. Like that.

God, what would this wine do once it’s inside you?

Take you over, maybe. Possess you.

*It's, like, Twin Peaks wine, it won’t pour. It won’t come out of the bottle.

*I think this wine wants to communicate. I think it wants to say something.

Maybe if we ask questions.

*This wine seems wise. It seems to know things. It’s, like, oracle wine. I think this wine might have all the answers.

*This wine’s telepathic. It’s making me … think things.

What things?

*This wine breaks, like, the laws of physics.

*It’s aristocratic this wine. It has nobility. Julius Evola would approve.

*Are we supposed to be drinking these in any order?

* There’s a kind of fish in this wine. Is there a kind of fish that lives in wine? That swims around in it?

I think the fish – whatever it is – is actually made of wine.

God! Do you eat this wine or drink it?

Should you just drink it down, do you think? Slip it down like an oyster.

I can’t drink something’s that’s alive!

 

This wine is festered, not fermented.

 

Eastern European doom wine, that’s what this is. From the deepest-reaching vine roots.

 

The wine is bubbling. The wine is, like, spurting. It’s a geyser. It’s frothing over, like some potion.

 

What’s the relationship between the poison of Cicero’s wine and the general poison?

Perhaps Cicero’s wine is an antidote.

But shouldn’t an antidote taste nice?

Maybe it takes poison to combat the poison.

 

There’s actually a Geordie wine. A bit like Newcastle brown ale.

Geordie wine! Do wines even grow this far north?

They do in Spital Tongues. In the allotments. There’s a microclimate in the Spital Tongues allotments.