Wild Sovereign Development Site

Tag: cocktail

a little brown bottle wrapped in paper

Went into the corner store. “Do you have olives?” “What?” “Olives.” “Oil?” “No, um, olives.” “What is that?” “It’s a kind of… tiny vegetable. I’m looking for the kind that come pickled in a jar.” “What would you do with it?” “Well, you might put it in a drink.” “Is it a medicine?”

Actually, yes. Went into the bottle shop. “Do you have vermouth?” “Vermouth?” He looks it up on his computer. “We do! It’s over here.” Pulls out the one brand of vermouth they sell. Ratchets the other bottles up to the front of the shelf. Behind me I hear another woman come in and ask. “Do you have vermouth?” I show her my bottle. “Are you making martinis?” “Yes!” she says, “we looked them up on the internet.” “Oh, excellent. Cheers!” “What are you putting in yours?” she wants to know. “Apparently you can put bitters in.” “What is bitters?” my companion wonders. The two of us combine to try ineffectually to explain. “It’s made in Trinidad and Tobago,” she says. “It comes in a little dark bottle wrapped in paper,” I say. We won’t be putting any in our martinis so I guess he’ll just have to keep wondering, for now.

January 3, 2014
three dog night

A bar in Berlin. I am greeted by a dog. “Na hallöchen! (‘little hello’) Wer bist denn du?” He is wiry and rough-haired and nuzzles my bag, clearly scenting the traces of Another Dog on its old leather. Then said Other Dog bursts in. Writhes himself in an ecstasy into my lap. Now we are three. Dog owner joins us: four. A lanky dude with his lanky red-headed setter lopes into the bar just as the music changes. Red-headed setter slides under our table where all the dog action is at. Berlin, I love how you let dogs into your bars. How a person thirsty but inconclusive and confused can say, Was war denn das? Was du gerade gemacht hast? What was that you just made? And the barkeep will explain. “A very old-fashioned Old Fashioned.” It was so good I sucked all the sugar out of the orange peel. A wreath of contented dogs round my feet lying like drunks. A man who sells Motz (homelessness magazine) came in and made his pleading spiel. Along the bar a line of hipsters sweet and tilt-headed as birds.

November 27, 2013
whiskey sour

Dear God, if there is a god. Save my soul, if I have a soul. Today grew miserable and I cannot say why. It was silly really. Guy in a cafe was rude. So rude! We grew happy again. The way bean stalks grow beans. Who cares about him. Anyway I set out on some work I have put off a long long time. Perusing old photographs for a publishing project. It took ages. Was frustrating. How unhappy I was, way back then. Finally I took off my computer and turned to my host and one-room housemate, who is also the man I like, and we had a blazing dark anchor lightbulb row. It didn’t make any sense. I hated him for being him he hated me for being me. God, we were furious. I felt like hurling things. I wanted to hurt someone. Not injure them but hurt them. I stormed out, fuck you. He had thrown my suitcase ineinander and stowed it by the door, Get Out~! I found a bar a few doors down. Ich was the only customer. Leaving, three hours later, I hugged across the bar the keep and told him, I was so unhappy when I came in here! Yeah, he said. I know. Anyway at first I asked him could he make me something strong, some kind of cocktail. Maybe something old-fashioned. Maybe a whiskey sour, he said. Sure, I said. I had three of those, then four, then five, Kai (the barkeep) showed me the postcards of his uncanny, dreamlike horse portraits, he used to sing in a band but now more photography is the dream. In his bar the lights were low-low and the music song by song. I think of you Brisbane. I think of you all the stupid men I have loved. Evolution, evolution. A third person came in, a “Handwerker” in heating whose name was Robert. I asked, was this the kind of song you like was that. How was it when the Wall came down. God, it’s ridiculous, we loved each other. Then I spilled out onto the street, I paid with all my hackneyed coins some of which are from Denmark and some Swiss and the rest, we promised we would look up one another’s blogs – cos we are modern – and I came home so enlightened with drunkenness that I just embraced my daft would you agh! lovely loving roommate and all is well, a well of wells, we are one Leute and I am here in Berlin the city which almost killed me and das Kiez, the neighbourhood, that saved my life.

June 9, 2013