Years ago, I spent the weekend at the house of a friend and her family. It was a beautiful place that I could only dream of living, a mansion that overlooked a lake. You could, as they say, see forever. Their was wax fruit in the bowl that looked real, candles that never got lit, towels that were only for show, and a beautiful bar containing a plethora of jewel-like liquors. When the sun began to set through the big picture window, you could see heaven in those bottles whose levels never went down. A maid dusted them every week until they gleamed.
The alcohol that everyone drank was hidden with the cleaning supplies in the laundry room. With little to no ceremony, my friends would take out the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and pour large amounts into styrofoam cups. Nobody clinked their cups together or said cheers. One night we ran out and all the liquor stores had closed. What to do? My friend's husband said, I hid some whiskey behind the toilet in case of emergencies. He went to go get the toilet whiskey, and I thought about how nice it must be to think ahead like that. Another dilemma solved with simplicity and grace! I didn't like the idea of drinking whiskey that had been in a bathroom for God knows how long, but I did. To not would have been rude. When I got home, I realized that everything I used was in front of me, that nothing was hidden or merely for display. Unless you counted my heart, which I could wear on my sleeve or lock up in a box and really there wasn't as much difference as one might hope.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I like the feeling of vanishing." Andy Warhol
Cocktail Hour
Drinking novel suggestion: Exile Blake Nelson
Benedictions and Maledictions
Rest in peace, Christopher of The Sopranos! Three more episodes!
18 comments:
I kind of hastened Christopher's death, but his going was a kind of relief to him and to me. His death was foreshadowed (I learned this term at Seton Hall!) by the "Departed" CD he was playing in the car just before we crashed. There was a grand vista at the end of the episode and I hope you noticed it, Michelle, even though you probably weren't on peyote like I was at the time. Speaking of Seton Hall, as you know I only spent one semester there and I flunked English Comp because I couldn't write an epiphany paper to save my soul! But guess what? With the peyote I got it!!! All the best, Michelle, and I hope you enjoy the last episodes. Thanks for all your support.--Tony
I can feel your heat coming out of that book, Michelle, if you know what I mean.
Twenty more days until the last day of the Sopranos!
One dream that I've had several times of standing in a bar with all those cool looking bottles of liquor on shelves behind and I'm shooting them wiht a pistol, watching them explode in multicolored liquids.
Cho Gremlin.
Toilet Wiskey! What a great idea!
I'd hide it in the tank to be extra secure.
Somehow this tale reminds me of music by Moby, a surreal setting of everything in its place and the real things coming from a plastic sleeve of Styrofoam and the drinking booze coming out of the cleaning closet, the the toilet (real alcoholic moment there hiding the booze; all the while the other alcohol bottles a rainbow for the setting sun to remain uncapped from that point until a new designer came in and changed it all around.
Nothing hidden but nothing only for display everything serving the purpose for which it was intended.
But your heart no I have never found it to be on display with only the purpose of displaying it, you only let it show, and even then only the necessary parts. The whole of it remains in the cleaning supply closet and you only bring out what is necessary for the moment. Which is not a criticism but rather a practice I follow, even more strictly than you.
Remember Peace
mark
Nice vertical blinds!
I wouldn't put anything in my mouth that began with the prefix 'toliet'.
This is so hysterical, even I'm laughing. And I haven't even broke out my toilet whiskey, yet.
(that you thought that you'd consider it rude to refuse is what makes me laugh so much, even now. Brilliant to include that.)
You know young lady, you still haven't told me what a Luna bar is, or if Luna bars are soft...
...this is also a wonderful pic to read in to. I owe you a poem.
myCajunQ
thasONEwaytoyeach
GrouchyHowtoRead
PictureBooks
FOxlyLadyD
ShazammmOMightyIsis
R2C2!!!!!
pictures maight be worth a thousand words, if the subjects can inspire that many
a picture
of a book of pictures
on the bare mother of stories,
So many stories said by the sweet winds through red satin lips;
the soft sheets--
they know nothing.
Ask them. Ask the Grouch.
off the waterside, grey miracles-- white nights and blue mondays abound
words and pictures have no soul like eyes in the early morning
Velvet on black; porcelien, silk and star's breath
I'm talking to you
breezie autumn night
good pic, bad poem
my bad
try again latter
and "maight" is my new combo word, composed of 'may' and 'might'.
Right...
Dear Michelle
I must catch up with your lovely blog and fill you in on the Piano Man concert. Lovely views and posts from what I can see. That is quite a large tome but I am sure that you read it just for the articles. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams always and of course a vigorous Bravo!
Storing liquor by the toilet? Whew! :)
Hey, is that Andy Warhol posing with the Velvet Underground? I LOVE VU!
every word
means one thing
but why?
do
so many
mean much more
She says so
you say
as you
tear down
what it means
to be her
with every stroke
of your loving claws
I still think I owe you a poem. You can pick any of these that I wrote today. Then again, let me just keep writing more.
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