Friday, September 4, 2009

No. 63



Beer: Shipyard Imperial Porter
Date: September 3, 2009
Place: The House, Somerville, MA



If it weren’t for the world heating up so much and everyone fearing that land mass will dissolve and we will dissolve then I think the biggest threat facing our planet is how it gets smaller every day.


Observe: a girl from my high school lives down the street from me.


Now, this isn’t some massive high school in some community where people are transient and move all over, and this isn’t some she lives down the street from me as a metaphorical device to say I have a friend in Connecticut.


It’s a God honest, denim wearing confession that a girl from my little 800 person high school in the cotton fields of Alabama lives down the street from me in my little city of Somerville, north of the formerly swampy Shawmut Peninsula.


And since college football was on we and since she is from Bama and I’m from Bama and she went to Tennessee and that’s next door to the Carolinas, and my wife is from North Carolina (and hates NC State, who we chose to cheer against – despite being the place where our high school quarterback from our little town in Alabama quarterbacked in college before he became an NFL superstar), we had a friend from Louisiana who went to LSU who I know from some Illinois friends come over and a friend from Texas (who I sat next to at Arnold) and a guy from California, but his brother married a girl from Alabama, and in a small world feat of itself is living upstairs with my landlord, who I have no connection to, other than I drove through his Irish hometown a few years ago {and I pay him monthly}, I wanted to open a beer.


A beer I couldn’t, for the life of me, find a kinfolk connection to.


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