A little bit of Wild Turkey with a friend after being ejected from work surprisingly early. It is sweet and woody and harsh. He's a good friend, Ryan - taller than most, amiable, intelligent. We've just learned that our dear friend Kyle (yes, that noble Kyle listed somewhere(s) below) is in a bad way and the thought of it makes the heart hurt.
There are good men out there, my friends. Good men who will sit with you on a bar stool and knock it back neat. Many (most?) aren't of the religious persuasion. Thank God for that.
I bus home, turkey coursing through my veins. The lady and daughter are gone up north for the evening. I sleep long and hard, lonely, but not in despair.
Thursday, May 3
We are home late from work. Evan and tonic again (this seems to be the drink of the week). The days have been thunderously beautiful, the mornings are swept up in birdsong, the evenings softly let themselves down into a gentle sea of pleasant coolness, and the afternoons, well, the afternoons make you want to drink.
God save us from a life without sappy prose, bad jokes, and worse bourbon.
p.s., the picture is for you, Owen.
Wednesday, May 2
Evan and tonic while trying to write an introduction to a paper on Venerable Bede, Theodore of Tarsus, and what it takes to be a good bishop in 7th Century England. Lord, these men seem so far away.
The wife brings home frozen treats from Her Majesty's Dairy. Not a bad night, I think to myself, taking the final sip of E&T and moving on to the frozen cream.
The wife brings home frozen treats from Her Majesty's Dairy. Not a bad night, I think to myself, taking the final sip of E&T and moving on to the frozen cream.
Tuesday, May 1
I remedy yesterday's oversight with cold efficiency: E. Williams and tonic by day, Black Maple Hill and a cube of ice by night. Bourbon and tonic might not immediately seem like an appealing drink - and it isn't.
It is nevertheless endearing.
My friends, I've two days of left of this bourbon project. I'm somewhat at a loss as to what manner I should give my farewells. I've considered drinking an entire fifth of bourbon and then jogging. I hate jogging, though.
This semester has been one of the worst times of my entire life. It has had its kicks to be sure - most of them involving bourbon and manfriends and late nights that went too late, much to my own shame. But deep inside the amount of work and stress and negligence which I've endured and self-produced has been extremely damaging. I mean this sincerely (well, as sincere as things get around here). I feel like half the man I was when I started, and that man way back then was already a dick.
Forgive the dour mood. I raise a glass to the coming end of the semester, foul beast that it has been, turning patches of my beard both gray and white. Evan, friend, can you get the lights?
It is nevertheless endearing.
My friends, I've two days of left of this bourbon project. I'm somewhat at a loss as to what manner I should give my farewells. I've considered drinking an entire fifth of bourbon and then jogging. I hate jogging, though.
This semester has been one of the worst times of my entire life. It has had its kicks to be sure - most of them involving bourbon and manfriends and late nights that went too late, much to my own shame. But deep inside the amount of work and stress and negligence which I've endured and self-produced has been extremely damaging. I mean this sincerely (well, as sincere as things get around here). I feel like half the man I was when I started, and that man way back then was already a dick.
Forgive the dour mood. I raise a glass to the coming end of the semester, foul beast that it has been, turning patches of my beard both gray and white. Evan, friend, can you get the lights?
Monday, April 30: Let my right hand wither!
This is somewhat embarrassing and personally confounding, but I forget to drink any bourbon today. Two German beers and then bedtime. Strange days, these. Kentucky's finest cut down by the Teutonic plague!
The Weekend
We're getting sloppier and sloppier around here, folks. I'm not sure if the problem is too much to drink, or too little. Whither the via media bourboni?
More Black Maple Hill, usually neat, once with cubes. I must confess as well that I drank no mean Scotch last night: a fifteen year Glenmorangie Artein. I do not, however, feel all that bad about my infidelity. Diversity is the only virtue this age recognizes, isn't it?
Friends, we are less than two weeks out from graduation. I think this project is almost done.
More Black Maple Hill, usually neat, once with cubes. I must confess as well that I drank no mean Scotch last night: a fifteen year Glenmorangie Artein. I do not, however, feel all that bad about my infidelity. Diversity is the only virtue this age recognizes, isn't it?
Friends, we are less than two weeks out from graduation. I think this project is almost done.
Friday, April 27
Home late, late, late. Work has become something akin to an insane asylum. Lord how we run! It is something near two am and I am drinking wine and eating sausage. I praise God it's not Lent. Black Maple Hill on the go. To bed on the couch, lady beside, in-laws bizarrely upstairs. I pray a simple prayer: Lord, if you won't give us salvation, at least allow us a little sleep.
He answers with a "no." Our prospects seem bad in the short term, hopeful in the long term.
He answers with a "no." Our prospects seem bad in the short term, hopeful in the long term.
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