An Open Letter to my Readers


To whom you may concern:

This is an open letter to all of the readers who enjoyed a morsel from my memory. To those have come before you and to those that remain. And to the lovers, boyfriend’s and one night stands, back and forth, back and forth another notch on my bedpost. And to the forgotten and dogtrotted and to my newest visitors, I’m still here.

And is going nowhere.

Yes I’m recommitting to my site again, and recommitting to all of you. There are times, when life takes over, and some thoughts are better keep private. Yet, I’ve never stopped writing but I ceased updating my site. Those feelings have changed. I need an outlet to ignite the darkest corners of the internet with my light and insight. I want to thank my readers who sent in your letters. I never want to take you all for granted. Sometimes, I feel you’re all I’ve got.

And I’m deeply apologetic for those I’ve unintentionally neglected.

Somewhere in my deeply analytical mind, it gets drunk off procrastination. I let my day job take over like Kelly Rowland. And those many nights of neglect was like a speeding train going no fucking where. And my passion for wine overwhelmed my passion for sex, love, and relationships. And now it’s time to combine those passions here. To be frank I drink more wine than I like to admit. And I’m too embarrassed to tell you how much I time and money I spend on wine.

I also know fashion. I used to be a stylist for nearly a decade. Talk about a life of struggle. I remember boarding buses with garment bags to do test shoots for free with other creatives who were also donating their time — all with the hope of getting publish in a magazine.

And then there was the time I wanted to run a magazine so I can work for a legitimate one. That’s a terrible reason to start a magazine. But I walked away when it no longer served my interests. And fashion too no longer serve me. I felt complicit in its stagnant state. I didn’t cast enough people of color, compromise my integrity and vision to get likes and followers. Fuck that.

I can’t go back to that. My biggest regret is giving up on the band of people who donated their time and energy for free. But I should have known that magazines are becoming extinct. They say the rise of Instagram led to the fall of the fashion magazine. Influencers are the new models/stylists.

As technology moves at the speed of night, we must move with it in moderation. There’s a reason why I’m not active on Instagram. I refuse to be defined by that little square where outfits and outtakes of my best manufactured moments reign supreme. That box is not big enough to tell my story. That’s why I have this site.

I’m a writer damn it. Whether I’m writing about fashion or fucking, I’m still a writer. Writer’s write and I refuse to stop.

That’s why I’m continuing on. That’s why I keep the lights on at

And I hope you all are along for the ride. I have too much to say and too little time to say it. Lord knows I’ve wasted enough time.

So stay tuned for regular updates. I write about what I love: wine, romance and everything in between.



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Love, Walter

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