I’m generally what they call a “late adopter.”
I still don’t own an iPod or Blackberry or have a Facebook page. I haven’t seen Slumdog Millionaire — or (I swear) a single episode of The Sopranos. Oh, we did eventually get a Wii, but not until long after every other student in my kids’ classes had them (according to my kids, anyway).
In some ways, my unwillingness to jump on trends has served me well. For instance, I never had a mullet or a Members Only jacket. And years from now, when everybody else is getting their tattoos lasered off, I’ll save some cash.
And because I’m always among the last to the table on these things, I know that everybody else on the planet has already joined Twitter and started revealing their lives to the masses in mind-numbing detail. Of course, even I’ve been culturally conscious of Twitter for about a year now, though I thought the concept was, well, idiotic.
After all, a lot of people seem to be tweeting the most mundane aspects of their daily lives: smoke breaks, commutes, nail appointments
But I’ve also come across tweets that revel in the haunting obscurity of a koan while infused with the breathtaking brevity of a haiku. And that’s the kind of shit that actually inspired me to join (see twitter.com/drinkthis) and start following.
One of my favorites is my old boss, Gary Vaynerchuk of Wine Library TV, where his slightly manic, offthe-cuff wine tasting webisodes are avidly watched by thousands. If you’re looking for enthusiastically delivered wine advice in a decidedly un-intimidating voice, then Gary’s your guy. His tweets are also fast and furious, touching on a much wider range of interests than just wine. So if you “follow” him, be prepared for an inundation!
For my own tweets, I’m trying hard to avoid the more pointless “updates” that are the bane of this app. For instance, I’m trying to post quick hit reviews of everything I drink, and the 140-character limit really keeps one from waxing too poetic. (I always get a kick out of reading nine-sentence descriptions of a simple $8 Merlot, but the complexities often ascribed to such products aren’t likely to be anything more than the product of a fevered imagination.)
Last month, I posted on a cheap 2007 Casillero del Diablo Carmenere from Chile that tasted like it was infused with green bell pepper. Alternatively, I tweeted that a 2005 Masi Campofiorin Ripasso is a “baby Amarone that’s drinking great. Surprisingly lush n full bodied with loads of herby goodness.”
In either case, not much more needs to be said for a reader to decide if they want to try it.
CONTACT MICHAEL SCHIAPARELLI: email@example.com