well, i managed to turn yesterday’s extreme annoyance and frustration (which i didn’t tell you about) into a nice buzz through a trip to the liquor store with ryan. have i ever told you how much i love the liquor store? no? well i really love the liquor store, but not because of the actual drinking itself. i used to be a bartender, and what i liked most about it, besides the social aspect, was the fact that i was taking these jeweled liquids and mixing them together to create all sorts of neat little concoctions. my martinis were perfection; my bloody marys were aesthetic triumphs. nevermind that my perfect martinis were temporary, and served only to aid the belligerence of middle-aged men. by god, it was fun.

so in liquor stores i’m reminded of that again. seeing all the pretty bottles lined up next to one another made me think of all the drinks i used to invent, too. the “white bread ate manhattan,” the “thing that devoured the bronx pub and grill,” (which was where i worked), etc. the “horse piss” was a little gross, but it was only one of many. bartending can be really creative and aesthetic, but only if you work at a slow bar.

at the liquor store i went to with ryan, they had a few bottles of pear brandy behind the counter. these bottles had a whole pear inside each one. the owner told us that they put the pear in the bottle when it’s really small and still on the tree, and then they tie the neck of the bottle to the branch so that the pear actually grows inside the bottle. after it’s grown, obviously, they cut it off and then fill the bottle with alcohol. i can’t imagine buying one of those bottles of pear brandy with the pear inside and actually drinking it; it was just too pretty to drink.

anyway, we made mint white russians (which were actually pretty good) and watched nixon, which was not pretty good. i’ve decided i really don’t like oliver stone. as i said about any given sunday, he’s just too arbitrarily gimmicky. i don’t think that stuff has any narrative purpose with him, which bothers me. anthony hopkins did really well at adopting nixon’s mannerisms, and joan allen is always beautiful, no matter what. but the movie itself was just bleh. i fell asleep, just like i do when i try to read jane eyre.

also, if you spell NIXON in capital letters and upside-down, it is NOXIN.