August 17 – August 23
Since being in San Francisco, here’s a few recommendations for some drinks I’ve stumbled upon and where:
Dark & Stormy, at Harper & Rye
Grasshoper, at The Corner Store
“Tall Boys,” at The Wreck Room
Three Sworn Enemies, at The Devil’s Acre
Nuts and Berries, at Owl Tree
Hemingway Daiquiri, at Wayfare Tavern
Grapefruit Margarita, at Uno Dos!
Venetian Spritz, at Taverna Aventine
Pina Colada, at El Techo de Lolinda
Francois Dillinger, at Novela
This list is not an implication of a) my tolerance level gone up; b) becoming a degenerate. It is just a list– a list of the good stuff, so to speak. It’s a good thing I was able to turn out a substantial amount of feedback because if anything, this list has implied to myself that all those times I took risks, it wasn’t in vain. It didn’t take much. Dim lights, red leather tufted booths, polished steel mirrors reflecting endless shelving of liqueur in an infinite illusion; the right setting can just put you in only so good of a mood to make the right or wrong decision. I don’t know, that’s the risk you take from when you feel like all moves are the right ones. Kind of just like being in this city is a perpetual bar for making spontaneous choices.
Thinking on these sort of drinks and ideas, for every good luck there’s always the bad ones. And that I was unfortunate to encounter at ironically the loveliest brasserie on a Monday night– the absinthe. I’ll do well not to repeat any stout, heavy licorice laden liquor AGAIN. Still, necessary evils they are, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but a beautiful way to know what tastes great. It’s this sort of feeling that shifted other things of this week in motion. Some exciting and rewarding– like deciding on a November holiday in London and Paris for my birthday— and others not too much, like telling my ex in England about it.
A whole six months later and it’s still a question that’s up on the air and neither of us have a definitive way to answer it. It’s been a blessed summer on my own, in my lovely city, with only myself alone to really find inspiration. It all goes back, however, to the strange but beautiful and perfectly human phenomenon of wants and needs. I know all too well how awesome I can be, and I don’t need a significant other to succeed– but still, you want them there. And you’ve made enough choices with dead ends– and some not so dead, like Him who texted you an article that He knew you would love and you still haven’t even opened the link–you may find one good one in this sea of singles, but none of them are the one guy who matters 5,000 miles away.
So when I told him that Europe was on my mind for the coming winter, we got back to talking. Talking of time off, why I wouldn’t be going to England in my travels and how I felt that there wasn’t a reason anymore to go there and he felt that there was and why and that there was still a chance. Stupid talk. But we had it. And now I can feel a bit more satisfied about the days to come when I do go out to Paris and now London– maybe Hull– too. It feels a lot better to address the terrible truth that you and an old someone from just a year ago still share– a sad, mutual feeling with a chance we’re both taking and hopefully won’t regret. Go down that scary, romantic path– you’re actually in a good place in your life to do so, even if nothing is guaranteed. Doesn’t stop you from an exciting adventure, all the same.
Of all the cheeky choices I’ve made in this city, I don’t feel sorry for not one. In moving forward, you sometimes do have to look back at the past. Any chance to repeat the past with certain drinks, nights out, and British exes, but not with Absinthe. Ever.