Well, I said, sipping cold coffee in the sun
Your hero –
He could stop neither time nor his sister’s moral degradation and
You two look like a couple of washed-out whores. You gonna make some money tonight?
You see?
Here we are
Two decades later
Also unable to stop time and our own moral decay
Was the last straw
They used to chain smoke together on her balcony and laugh at the morning dew
Make cocktails in the early evening and talk about the future
I used to watch them and think
Maybe this is it
But he inevitably disappointed her
With his bad cocaine habit
Joblessness
Unreliability
Weight gain
She said no one would play with her like he did
I said better men were everywhere
But she did not believe me
So she took her mango salsa recipe
Homemade curtains
Bread baked from scratch
Her psychology degree
Left me in Los Angeles
And went home to the country
Where disingenuous city boys could not find her
And her friends had more to offer than drowning her bruised, bloody, young heart in whiskey or sitting by the toilet at the end of the night
He was irritated, she could tell, and she said not to worry, but I have actually slept with 69 people, as of this day, June 9, and can you feel the syphilis eating away at your own brain?
Myself, I have less thoughts these days. All the better as I deliver this morose letter to the front door of a fraternity house, to a boy who cares less than he should because he does not know any better.
As she stood on the front steps of the house, contemplating his stupidity, it suddenly occurred to her she was once in his shoes, on the receiving end of an over-zealously maudlin letter, which she hardly cared enough to read; she half listened as her roommate rattled off pages of complaints, heartbreak, and insult, and might have even laughed. The letter ended up in a trash can under her desk. This was but a fleeting thought when he came to the door to accept the missive, and she turned to leave him to his poor choices and to comfort her friend in a night steeped in cheap whiskey.
I heard them in the bunk above
didn’t like the way he said her name but
she liked it, giggled until her cheeks were pink and eyes were bright
Until two weeks later he said
He was driving across the country with his ex girlfriend
Mary
And I fed her whiskey all night
then held her chestnut locks
while she cried into the toilet
if she looked into the dark far enough hard enough
she could smell that night
its rain and promises
then
the mustiness of old youth appears
dusted off in the sunshine like
a stranger knocking on the door
we were
looking at the pulsing stars
then we blinked and
the sky was gone
i reminded him
i did not promise you anything
Don’t leave me here with him in cyberspace
But she always did
In filthy cyberspace, or at a table in our coffee shop with old men
And her thoughts left with her on the last train taking flight before he sat down across from me
You’re Christian, aren’t you?
No, no I am not. I am a heathen and I am going to hell but
I found god once
in my backyard presiding over maple trees and pine cones
in the Blue Ridge Mountains
and even then I didn’t trust him to sympathize with human loneliness
if you’d like more conversation
I’d like a cigarette
Until she gets back
We cook a lot anyways, but having an extra 40 minutes a day because there’s no commute to/from work just makes cooking that much easier. The usual: salsa and hummus with our beloved food processor. I did not know I needed a food processor in my life when Michael bought us one in 2008, but once we started using it, we did not know how we ever lived without one. After 12-13 years of use, the Kitchenaid was really starting to be in bad shape, and Kyle received a new, bigger, Cuisinart food processor for his birthday, which we immediately put to use making more salsa and more hummus. Also tried out a frozen yogurt recipe, which we liked, but Vale did not.
New: tofu stir-fried with bacon and mushrooms, and Moroccan chicken (not entirely new, as we used to make it more frequently, but it’s been years). I found my mom’s tofu recipe crammed in the miscellaneous drawer, and decided to give it a go. I’ve made it a couple of times, and it’s pretty good, though consistency is a problem because mom never gives measurements, and everything is an estimate, so it comes out different every time.
The last couple of years, I’ve migrated my preferred beer selection from standard IPA’s to hazy IPA’s. They tend to be fruitier, lighter, and easier to drink, and are particularly delicious in the warm weather. However, they lack the potent, bitter, hoppiness of original IPA’s and the sweetness comes through more, so sometimes, after a few too many hazys, I definitely crave an original IPA to balance out the palate.
COVID-19 hit in March, and shelter-in place orders trickled down the coast, beginning in Northern California, making its way down to San Diego County. Since shelter-in-place took effect, we have stocked up from Bevmo on a couple of occasions and taken the time to try different beers. While I didn’t buy into the toilet paper or hand sanitizer panic (somewhat to my detriment, however, as we have a pretty sad supply of hand sanitizer), I certainly did panic when I saw that some states were considering banning alcohol sales, and that there could be a beer supply problem due to shortage in CO2. Ultimately, it did not end up being a problem, and there has been plenty of beer to go around (thus far).
The Goose Island pictured below is not a hazy, but was unexpectedly citrusy, fruity, and well-balanced. I was not a huge fan of Goose Island’s original IPA, so this one took me by surprise. Price was also something to gloat about – not a lot of solid beers are going for $7.99 a six-pack, so I considered this a win. Both Lagunitas hazys had a similar feel. Lagunitas tends to be sort of unmemorable for me (no different from their original IPA) – drinkable and good enough, but probably not good enough to buy again if it isn’t on sale.
Since bars and restaurants were forcibly closed for an extended period of time, we watched sadly as longstanding neighborhood breweries went out of business. When we saw that Lost Abbey, which had opened just shortly before the coronavirus madness, was selling beers to go, we picked up a few bottles. They were selling them for very reasonable prices, comparable to retail. We’ve had the Judgment Day quad before, but it is no joke. Strong as hell, deep flavors (currant, raisin, warm Belgian spices).
Quarantine has not been too bad for us, as we have a yard, good weather, good books, and a few hiking trails nearby on which to enjoy our beers. There’s a lot of crazy shit going on, and it’s a good time to count blessings.