There are more than just bananas in there...

Tag: absinthe (Page 1 of 2)

Death By Morning

If you don’t start anything, you’ll never have to finish it. That sounds a bit pithy and wise, does it not? I could probably drop a dash after that and make up a name and folks would think I was educated for quoting someone clever. Sadly, that’s not the case, they are just some words I wrote down while trying to figure out how to start writing. Some days it is harder than others. Like most of my life it is feast or famine. Either I have million things to say and I am having to edit ideas out to keep things on track or I live in an inspirational wasteland. It’s not quite that bad, but I do want things to be good and somedays, well, you can just tell that the good stuff is going to hang there like Aesop’s grapes, just out of reach. So, in the spirit of doing the work, even when you don’t feel like you have it in you, won’t you join me now as we stand and make Death By Morning.

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The Crushed Nun

Obligation is a funny thing. It is simply defined as “a course of action a person is bound to do, arising out of a sense of duty or customs or law.” They go on and on describing edge cases, but it really does come down to “a responsibility that you assume” for whatever reason. I think that is the key part, the free will portion, which is funny because obligations are constraints, they limit freedom, by their nature. It is at precisely that moment when you make that choice to accept responsibility, a choice that will keep you from being able to make some other choices, that obligation begins. That has been on my mind a lot lately, those chains we bind ourselves with. Those ties to the place, family, groups, and the tasks that define us. Ultimately, these choices say a lot about who we are, who we can be and how we will get there, if we honor them. So, in the spirit of choices made, deadlines and commitments, won’t you join me now as we stand and make The Crushed Nun.

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Death In The Afternoon

The champagne was cold, but the girls were hot and I was as green as the absinthe swirling in the glass as they stepped on to the dance floor. That’s how it was in those days. I left home full of vigor, ready to prove myself a citizen of the world. I figured I had learned all they knew in school and it was time to see what lessons the real world could teach me. Mostly, it taught humility. Spain looked good on paper. I was living the life, as they say. A life mostly spent sitting in the corner of one club or another watching other folks enjoy that life I described in my letters home. As the cigarette smoke slowly rose from the ashtray, I signaled the barman with a nod. Sure, I’d have another. If I could not write like Hemingway, I could at least try to drink like him. So, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the classic, Death in the Afternoon.

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Negative Space

We are in my wheelhouse today, so to speak. Paying as much attention to what is not happening as to what is actually going on. Focusing on the silence, the space between the notes, the whitespace that defines the picture or gives the words their form. At its most basic, this is what I do most days, manipulating the relationship between background and focus, laying out graphics and words, seeing those words as shapes and always vigorously defending the field on which that particular game is played. So, in honor of the emptiness that defines the thing and the lies between, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make the Negative Space.

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Bananarac

One of the greatest difficulties we face today is a growing gap in cultural literacy. In addition to basic history, which we hope against hope will be covered in the kids curriculum, there are also thousands of fandoms, movies and music that a person needs to have at least a working knowledge of, in order to be a clever productive-ish member of society. Nobody told me that helping to educate the next generation would be so daunting. Just today I found myself explaining concepts I barely understand myself as the lad asked “What is a hollaback girl?” That shit was bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s. So, in the spirit of seeming clever by staying one step ahead of the class, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Bananarac.

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Irish Cocktail

It was foggy and overcast as I stood on the porch, my breakfast tea in one hand, toasted soda bread the boy had made, slathered with Kerrygold butter in the other. I was reminded of another morning, nearly twenty years ago in County Cork, drinking tea, eating warm brown bread, watching a boat floating in the lough across the lawn. A boat without a passenger, in the middle of the water. I never wondered how it got there, why it was there or what it meant. Funny how that happens. I took a picture and it wasn’t till years later that it occurred to me that a pilotless boat in the middle of a lake is unusual. That image has stuck with me and on mornings when the mist comes in close, I often wonder what happened to that boat and the person who loved it. Just another mystery without an answer or even a proper question. So, in that spirit, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Irish Cocktail.

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Bobby Burns

How much poetry do you get in your daily life? Seriously. Do you get the chance to read much poetry these days? Do you thrill to the imagined sound of the words flowing from the page when you see those rhyming couplets inset from the text or do you just sort of naturally gloss over those passages to get back to the meat of the narrative? I claim to enjoy poetry and will often take a few moments to read a bit, not everyday, but a couple of times a week. Not as much as I probably should, but I figure fewer than some and more than most. I can’t take too much at one sitting though. Not sure why. I can read non-fiction or novels for hours on end, but a quarter hour of poetry and I am mostly done in. Tonight is Robert Burn’s Night, a celebration of the National Bard of Scotland, so with him in mind, won’t you join me as we stan’ and ma’e, the Bobby Burns.

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Wolf Bite

The Thirteen Drinks of Halloween 2020 – Three

Here we are, howling into day three of The Thirteen Drinks of Halloween and the next step into our exploration of the spirits of the season. So far, we have made a pretty drink that doesn’t work till you make it ugly and an already macabre classic cocktail. Today we are going to go a little deeper with a drink that appears to be one thing and turns out to be quite another. So, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make, the Wolf’s Bite.

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Neptune’s Wrath

We made it to October and it is time for a little magic. I mean all the way around. I want some falling leaves, the smell of a campfire, cardigans, pumpkin spice mocha, puffy vests, girls in Uggs, the whole basic autumn package. I want full moons, black cats, random ghosts and a departure from the ghoulish behavior we have seen too much of this year. I want people to celebrate the equinox, I want Reese’s Pumpkin shaped Peanut Butter Cups, because those are the ultimate form of the peanut butter cup. This is not up for discussion. So, I am going to call on one of the old gods and do a little alchemy today, there will even be fire, you’re gonna love it. So, grab your best incarnating frock and join me now as we stand and make, Neptune’s Wrath.

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