Bitter Heaven

There was the distinct morbidity of childhood, then before she knew it, she was knocking on heaven’s door with a baseball bat in one hand a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. How nice that you believe in an afterlife and will have a warm home basking in the glow of god waiting for you when I continue to be lost, burnt, stubborn, clinging to vacuous resolve, stale romances trailing close behind. The scent of the night before is still in her hair and the beautiful Greek god saw her cynicism running down the length of the closet mirror. She was the most reluctant witness to the pieces of the day: cheap guitars, fake aspirations, imaginary men.

Here she thought she would find his closeness, everlasting regression, and sweetest harmony written in stardust by the purveyor of perceived eternity but he was not there, and in his place was only a fanatic disintegration.

She had ended gracelessly in an anti-climactic fade, swimming in her own ashes so she had no choice but to welcome futility. She hypothesized that sleep is parallel to death.

Falling

With dangerous ambivalence they were rampaging the streets

She sees herself everywhere in mirrors, holding rainbow glasses of drinks

Until she finds herself sinking between his sheets

Breathing warmth out of her veins, suspecting that if she blinks

She might erase it all with the pulse of the night and a parting of the lips

When her wings fluttered the hours away in a smoky heaven and she tore shooting stars off the walls

Traced the clouds with her hips, brushed the ether with her fingertips

In smug delight of holding a microcosmos in her pocket, blind to impending falls

So steadily she holds the gaze of his gold-flecked eyes

Carefully one more time traces his ripples and lines

When daylight snakes in the room and the night before is a faded whisper of sighs

And the arrogant sun sings and shines

She can feel her heart starting to creak and bend

And fears with him she’ll meet her end

Ballast Point Little Italy

Ballast Point makes Sculpin IPA, which is one of my favorite beers of all time. We used to go to their tasting room/Home Brew Mart in Linda Vista when we would go there to buy grains and other brewing supplies. I only recently went to the restaurant/bar they opened in Little Italy. The place is huge, which is great. It was fairly easy to find seating, even around lunch time on a Saturday. We easily found several seats outdoors on the patio for ourselves and a couple of friends. They also were showing a soccer game, and not one of the many other sports I don’t give two fucks about, so that was cool too.

I was totally unoriginal and ordered the grapefruit Sculpin. I posted about this heavenly beverage before; I didn’t think it was possible for Sculpin to be any better, until I had the grapefruit version. I have also heard about a mango version which I have yet to try.

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My second beer was the regular Sculpin, but I did also get a chance to try some other beers. The Tongue Buckler with lemongrass and ginger was lovely and interesting, but it’s probably reasonable to serve that in an 8-ounce serving. The Victory At Sea Imperial Porter was also fantastic – standard coffee and vanilla flavors, but really great.

New Sculpins To Swig

Sculpin IPA is already delicious, crisp, powerful, and one of the greatest beers ever…but wait! There’s more! I finally tried Sculpin Grapefruit IPA. Drank it by the pool at a bachelorette party and it did not disappoint. In fact, I think I like it even better than the regular Sculpin IPA. It has the fresh, crisp, hoppiness of Sculpin but also comes with a lovely and well-balanced grapefruit flavor (pictured above), making it even fresher and more palatable on a hot day. I sat by the pool in the backyard of a mansion in Temecula’s wine country drinking this beer of the gods and texted a picture to my friend. She asked me if I’d died and gone to heaven. Seriously, very plausible at that moment.

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I also recently tried the Habanero Sculpin IPA. I’ve tried several spicy beers by now and I usually treat them like novelties; they are good as a one-time experience. After that, you get kind of tired of the way your throat burns and itches (even if you are a huge fan of spicy food like I am). As amazing as Ballast Point is, Habanero Sculpin fell into this category. Habanero Sculpin IPA definitely tasted like Sculpin IPA, but the masterful creation that is Sculpin IPA was somewhat muddled by the smoky, itchy habanero that grew more potent as the beer warmed in my hands (I wasn’t drinking slowly by any means, but by the time I got toward the bottom, quite spicy/itchy/weird). Sometimes you just gotta leave a good thing alone.

There is a Chinese idiom about not adding legs to the painting of a snake – meaning, if you’ve a got a good thing going, don’t add elements that don’t make sense or ruin what you have. Maybe not applicable to the Grapefruit, but probably a relevant idiom when it comes to the Habanero.

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