Hiatus

This will be the last post for awhile.  Recently I just have lost all inspiration.  I have no desire to write whatsoever.  I do not know how long this leave of absence will be.  It could be days, weeks, months; there really is no telling.  Thank you to those few who read this.

On Tap: Wheaties

Well, it's Monday again folks.  Don't you just love it?  Yeah, me neither.  But with this Monday comes another edition of On Tap.  Rather than waste any more time complaining about being back at work, let's get right into this weeks brews.

Shock Top Belgian White - Having enjoyed Shock Top's Lemon Shandy, I decided to try their Belgian White, and I'm glad I did.  Although not nearly as good as their Shandy, the White still had it's own appeal.  It had a wheaty-citrus flavor that was mellowed by the presence of coriander, and was fairly crisp and refreshing.  A good summertime ale.

Hoegaarden -  I sampled this beer last Monday and was pleasantly surprised.  I didn't really know what to expect going into this beer; I knew it was a wheat beer, but beyond that I was clueless.  Oddly enough, it tastes fairly close to the Shock Top above, with perhaps just a bit less coriander.  If I had to say which one I enjoyed more, I would say the Shock Top, but only by the slimmest of margins. 

Leffe Blonde - There is nothing like unwinding after a long day's work with an ice cold beer and although not great, this one did the trick.  This is a Belgian abbey-style ale, which tend to be higher in alcohol content, but this little guy wasn't too bad at 6.6% ABV.  It had a very "spicy" flavor, and was crisp with a smooth finish.  Overall, it was an okay beer.

Sierra Nevada Kellerweis - This was the only overwhelming loser I've sampled recently.  I had this beer with some tacos last week and I must say, not even the tacos could save this beer.  Kellerweis is a wheat beer which had me excited, however, the flavor was completely overshadowed by the presence of cloves and yeast.  Overall, this beer wasn't too great.

New Poem: The Old Man in the Photograph

This poem was inspired by the photograph below, which was taken by my friend Michallynn, who has an excellent blog of her own.  I really enjoyed the photograph when I initially saw it and knew I had to write about it.  I began by writing everything that came to mind and then chiseled the poem away from the bulk.  This is what I ended up with.  Enjoy.

The Old Man in the Photograph

"Stranger" by Michallynn Vilushis

In front of what might be a grocery store,

An old man creeps up to the edge of the curb,

Watching as the evening sun stretches his shadow

Across the cracked macadam of the parking lot.

How long he looks surprises even him,

His shadow-self now tall and thin as memory.

It’s autumn and he’s unemployed, retired,

And the warm color of his hair has fled.

Perhaps it’s Sunday and he’s leaving church

Alone.  Maybe his family has rushed ahead

And the car is running, anxiously waiting

For him to climb inside and join them.

                                                   

                                                         

                                                                                 I can almost see it, the minivan humming

                                                                                 And shaking impatiently, fumes leaking sluggishly

                                                                                 From the exhaust, in between the endless rows,

                                                                                 Each car packed tightly in a coffin of white lines.

                                                                                 Mumbling a prayer or a list of things forgotten,

                                                                                 With an air of solemn care about him, he stands

                                                                                 In dress clothes that have been outgrown, his frail form

                                                                                 Bowing gently to the end of something.

                                                                                 Every day it’s as though we say a eulogy to our youth,

                                                                                 To the seconds that hurry past in urgency and leave us

                                                                                 Stranded, wondering if we’ll be remembered,

                                                                                 And with a hope that they’ll be coming back.