I like a bar where you need to know what you want to order. No cocktail list. Spirits fill pages, s few glasses of wine. Simple. Clean. Neat. You should be inspired by what you want to drink. Consume. Imbibe. Alcohol is so indulgent. It takes many forms. The amorphous elixir is one of so many personalities. We associate drinking with fruitful possibility. The ideas and conclusions are endless. We stop. Shaken. Stirred. Still. Sparkling. Neat. Rocks. An alcohol has many vessels, and shapes into what you want. What you need? Fermented fruits and grains evolve in the glass, barrel, and bottle. There is absolutely no destination except excess. Consumption. Drunkenness and pleasure swirl around. A sinusoidal wave of the giddy and bitter. We either take our time or rush. A round of shots for friends or a glass for an angel face. Liquid follows. Fluid. A changing from stillness to commotion. Pouring down the throat, the liquid swells, growing bigger than an ounce in the glass. We become alive, heightened, aware of our surroundings in a way that is almost poetic. Alas, not quite graceful because we are still indulging in something that is rotten. Turned essentially, from something pure and succulent, to a corrupted organism. Taken from purity, marred, blemished. Moved from a fruit, grain, vegetable to something of different structure. Chemical properties realign, irreversible damage. Livers. Tongues. Teethe. Stained. Are we ashamed? Was it the right choice? Back to choices. Back to possibility. I sit at the bar. No menu. No list. No cocktails. No suggestions. Drink what you please. Pause. Drink if you please. A glass for an angel face. A halo for the noble savage acting as a refined being. The decision is entirely yours. The substance of liquor is demented and differing but the devil does not reside here. He is not in your glass. It is a manipulation of the existing element. We made the choice, forged the alchemy. I sit at the bar. I look at myself and only myself. We reside in the beverage we choose. We consume the elements outside their habitat. Why? For pleasure, intrigue, desire, taste. We want a little bit more than what nature has to give. A bit of extra indulgence. Why stop at vines and tress? Push forward and see what happens. The outcome is in the feeling. It is in the texture and taste. The end is not written on a menu or label. Have The Last Word (with Mescal).
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