I was watching Scandal one day (I'm not a regular viewer but I catch it when I can) and I saw a scene by Huck that I thought was very compelling. I can't find a video to it, but he was at one of his AA meetings, describing how he felt when he "drank the whiskey". The words he chose, the allegory and alliteration used in his monologue inspired me, because it mirrored my feelings and view about the hobby. So here is my ode to the hobby, and it is entitled "The Whiskey".
I saw the people. The people who did what I wanted to do.
Arms raised, arms lowered. Lips pursed in a fake kiss.
Lips parted in a satisfied smile, or a burning grimace.
Those people did what I wanted to do. they drank of the whiskey.
Oh looking at their faces, all I could imagine is how it must feel
to drink of that drink. That whiskey.
Eve took a sips, and that amber pearl hung from her lips.
And in a kiss, Adam pursed his lips and took a lil sip.
And he was drunk on that whiskey,
even never having tasted that whiskey before,
at single sight
I wanted that amber drink.
And I felt bad exalted at the same time,
thinking about what it would be like,
ohhh, to taste that whiskey.
I saw him in the amber light,
he took a sip from his snifter,
and ohh my God, it smelt of whiskey.
And I took a sip, warm on my tongue,
like smolten steel,
then soft on the back of my palate,
the taste of his whiskey.
Pavlov's dog at first taste of that whiskey,
how so with no conditioning?
Because I had been dreaming, coveting, craving,
fearing the day when I would let it run down my lips.
that day came, and I drank.
Oh boy did I!
I drank and I drank, and I drank. I drank the whiskey.
And I did feel better,
but I still felt thirsty.
I saw her,
her voice was amber,
like honey, newly worked by its buzzing producers.
She sang to me, and her voice drew me, like a hopeless man,
to the whiskey.
Her eyes, golden, her skin golden.
Pink when agitated, like that swarm of angry bees that made that honey. The color of whiskey.
She took me to her garden one day, and reached into her satchel,
for there she hid her whiskey.
and there alone, We drank.
Smooth and sweet as apple cider on my lips.
I drank of the forbidden challis.
Pure in love and loose, I drank.
He took me.
Pants crumpled the backseat.
He disarmed me, and disrobed me, and displaced me. And then he found my whiskey.
That filthy bum, he stole my whiskey.
His palate numb, his tongue not knowing of sweet and oak,
the earthy, and the embers,
his palate is numb
Place a grey charcoal on his tongue and see!!
No flinch, no flavor, no savor, because his palate is benumbed.
And I drank of his dank whiskey,
I acquiesed, but I was not thirsty.
Hard and steel it was, no longer molten and sweet.
Cold against my back, and I went away on a song.
A dream, a boat,
hell I went under like a submarine.
Into cold steel,
dark waters and still nights,
A ship, a vessel, hell submarine, within a submarine.
I once knew the engineer on such a cold hard vessel.
Warm the heart, and take a lil sip of that whiskey.
Dreaming, coveting, fearless, the taste of that whiskey.
And what makes a man feel better, more himself, than that taste.
we tied the decanters to our necks,
an albatross of amber.
Sai Whiskey.
And we drank, and drank, and drank.
Like a fountain spews forth, so does that whiskey.
And the streets were twinkling bronze light,
dark waters, still night.
A refreshing mirage for the hopeless,
a place called home for the homeless.
We grabbed a cup, and a stool we pulled up,
and bellied up.
And boy did we drink of the whiskey.
And we drank and drank and drank of that whiskey.
Dreaming, coveting, craving,
fearing everytime we did taste of that amber whiskey.
We went to the bar, not once, not twice, but many times,
Alone and together, we related in our relations
Exalted and conditioned.
All for the taste of that whiskey.
And boy do we drink!
And we drink, and I drink, for I am no longer thirsty.
I do dream and covet,
and crave that ember light.
How can you not?
Oh the taste of that whiskey!
From pursed fake kiss,
burning grimace,
and the parting of my lips in a satisfied smile.
Dripping of honey,
and that whiskey.
Displaced and disrobed,
I sip from the snifter, and enjoy of every pace.
As things go, life and the state of our condition,
trials and labor makes the heart densen.
But that light amber fluid, whets the senses.
Now the alcoholic is also the bartender, and I pour me and you
a shot of whiskey.
A shot for you,
a shot for me,
and together,
we taste of that amber light.
The whiskey.
My Bio Page - New York - Upstate
