Roto-blog

there's always a wind-up

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Nothing to Say - Kill Banner Ads

Today I went down to the Black Patch and walked around for six hours. The police had taped off part of the Park with blue and white Crimestoppers ribbon. There was a murder in Oldbury last night, so maybe the gun ended up in the Black Patch. I didn't ask. Maybe it was about something else.



I would like a beer - or some sort of alcohol. I have a beer. It's a bottle of Anchor Steam Christmas Ale from 2000. I've had it in my fridge for 4 years. I don't know what I'm waiting for - but I'm not gonna drink it until I have a good reason. I also have a bottle of Allen's Ginger Brandy. There's one sip left. The alcohol has probably gone out of it by now. But there's no place here to get more of either.



I don't recall where I got the bottle of Anchor Steam, but I do recall buying several bottles in Sebastopol in the early 90s, which I kept for a few years before drinking - it may have improved with age - it certainly didn't suffer for it. So I've got this here bottle, and I look at it every once in a while and wonder what I'm going to do with it.



The Ginger Brandy is a different matter. I bought it in the liquor shop at Porter Square last time I was in Boston. I've been sipping it every once in a while - and it's down to the last half-shot or so. I gave the second-to-last shot to my friend Barbara, who is of West Indian extraction, and appreciates things like this. So I've been letting it sit. Again, wondering when I'm gonna finish it off. Probably when I have some prospect of getting more.



Neither of those brands is available here. One could conclude that Brits are incredibly provincial when it comes to food, drink, and clothing. The same old shit will do every time. I was shocked to see a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale here once. I have yet to see any number of even the UK beers that are available in the US: Belhaven Ale, Old Thumper, Young's Barley Wine. All things I could get in that big liquor store on Comm Ave in Allston, but have yet to see anywhere in the UK. They make these things for export, apparently. Plus, I've never seen some of the more interesting things like Xingu, Sierra Nevada Porter, a really nice wheat beer from North Dakota, and so on. Stupid, really.



Okay, so there European beers, and wine from around the world.The beer aficionados probably get their entertainment at beer festivals. I haven't been to any. I've been to a Bavarian beer festival, but that's a different thing entirely. Brit beer festivals are held in conference venues - big white marquees, indoor arenas, the like. Just like any other gig.



I could go down to the shop and get myself a nice Ruby ale - if I could get there before 11:00. But I'm not going to. Maybe I'll pick up some pilsener when I got get groceries. But for now, I've got no booze, and don't feel like going out in search of any.



I'll sit here with my vintage Anchor Steam and my last sip of Allen's. I'm not drinking either. I decided to have a cup of ginger tea instead.



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4 Comments:

  • At 1:20 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

     
  • At 2:58 AM, Blogger k said…

    Hallo again. :) I may have missed it, but what are the photos? They remind me a bit of Andy Goldsworthy. Quite nice at any rate. Happy weekend.

     
  • At 11:55 AM, Blogger d3 said…

    The abstract close-ups of paint? They're the weather-worn sufrace of some concrete playground forms - tortoise-shaped lumps.

     
  • At 11:24 PM, Blogger d3 said…

    Turns out that it wasn't a gun that the police were dealing with. It was the partially cremated body of an old man, who had been murdered, taken to the park, and set afire.

    This fits with the reputation of the place as a dumping ground and notorious place. The suspected murderers brought the body from the opposite end of the city, as though they thought Black Patch was the place to go with a body. Usually people just dump victims in a canal. So this is wierd, in addition to being brutal. How horrific for the relatives.

     

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