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.

Louie

"Everything is amazing and nobody is happy."  - Louis C. K.

I think I may be in love with this man.  He is not only hilarious, but extremely intelligent and thoughtful.  If you have never seen his stand-up, do yourself a huge favor and spend a couple minutes watching some clips on YouTube.  I promise you will not regret it.

Becoming Bane

This past weekend I finally saw the Dark Knight Rises!  And it...was...EPIC!  But that's not what this post is about.  This post is about something that I've been neglecting for seven months now: going to the gym.  You may be asking yourself, "Wait, what does Batman have to do with exercise?"  The answer is, nothing really.  It's just that in seeing how committed the actor playing the part of Bane must have been (Tom Hardy did some serious bulking up for the role) got me thinking about how lazy I've been.  I stopped going to the gym at the end of December and just kind of fell out of the habit.  I haven't worked out a day since, that is, up until Sunday.

On Sunday I decided it was time to get back in the swing of things.  I not only made my first trip back to the gym, but I also made a significant purchase that will go a long way in ensuring that I keep up the exercise.

I purchased this Marcy Standard Width Bench from Dick's Sporting Goods.  Now as you can imagine, this little guy wasn't exactly cheap, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.  Maybe because I spent so much on it I'll actually have to use it so that I don't feel like I wasted my money.  

This seems like a good step towards getting back into shape.  In college I was in pretty good physical condition and I miss the way that feels.  Sunday was certainly a swift kick in the nards.  The amount of weight I can lift has decreased dramatically, I got winded after just my second lap in the pool, and today I'm feeling a bit sore.  It's all a little discouraging.  But I won't give up.  This is only the beginning.  It will get easier with time.  Hopefully with my new purchase and a little resolve I'll be able to actually look the part of the beefed-up super villain Bane...or, ya know, maybe a little less puny.  

The (Cult) "Classics"

I love movies.  I love how they take you somewhere else, how they take your mind off of your life for a few hours.  Growing up, my family didn't have much money so that meant (for the most part) going to the movies was out of the question.  The movies I saw as a kid were old VHS's that my mother had picked out and most of them weren't what you'd consider mainstream.  My mom had a thing for musicals and I'm ashamed to say that I've seen quite a few (Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, The Sound of Music, 1776, etc.) and still know the words to a number of their more catchy tunes.  As I've gotten older, I've tried to make a point to see some of the classics I missed out on as a kid.  I always catch flack from my friends when they hear some of the movies on my "never saw it" list.  The following is a small excerpt from that list (some of which I would very much like to see, and others not so much):

1. The Godfather
2. Schindler's List
3. Pulp Fiction
4. E.T. The Extraterrestrial
5. Fight Club
6. The Exorcist
7. The Big Lebowski
8. Wayne's World
9. The Usual Suspects
10. The Boondock Saints

Memories: The Great Escape

The following is an account of the escape of my little sister's pet guinea pig.  I wrote it as if it were a letter.  I have no idea how old either of us was at the time.  I was originally going to try and turn this into a poem, but I couldn't get it to work; damn thing just wouldn't cooperate.  I didn't want the story to go to waste, so here we are.  Side-note: this story makes me think of a phone call I got from my sister year's later, informing me that my mother had passed away.  

Olivia,

Do you remember the pet guinea pig you had when we were kids that chewed a hole through the cardboard box we kept her in, just behind a pile of her green pellets of food?  I don’t remember the sound she made when the dog bit her, or if the dog actually bit her.  I don’t remember there being blood.  But I do remember holding her in my arms as she shivered in a dish towel, and how even the coarse hair felt cold.  I remember crying uncontrollably, having to be the one to tell you she was dead.  I remember you, stone silent as the turning of a page, still pondering the great escape.  I guess that’s how it goes for some people; time just seems to wash all of the messy details away, leaving behind the polished wound.  And tonight I’m sitting wishing I were you, chewing the cap of a pen pressed hard against a piece of clean, white paper, digging at the page, trying to remember her name.