Another day of the most intense loneliness on the planet. Arghhhhh. This year is puncturing my soul.
Regardless of the emotional crap I wake up with, I tried to keep myself busy for the rest of the day.
I went cycling.
I bought another bike.
I bought some whisky.
I had a picnic by myself, fittingly next to the koi pond I often cry into, and blah di blah, fck this year.
Oops sorry.
I should stop complaining, my life is a breeze compared to the life of some other chicks in Japan.
Look at Kari-Girl, who must surely get stressed each weekend, what with her blog being called, "Internationalising Japan One Knobu At A Time" or words to that effect.
I mean, imagine the pressure you'd feel having to find material for that kind of blog each and every weekend.
I feel sorry for the girl, I really do.
At least my blog doesn't rely on me having to score some cock for each update, and for this I am thankful, and all my problems- the loneliness, the exile, the Michelangelo Forehead- they are all nothing, nothing compared to what my life would be like if I had to go out every weekend to hunt and gather chinko.
I'm tigressing.
Yeah, I bought a bike.
A brand new bike.
I noticed it while I was paying for some new Polarised sunglasses, having left my old ones on the plane this past summer, and it was reduced hugely - from 19,980 yen, to 7,980 yen - and had gears, a basket and 27 inch wheels! My dream shopping bike albeit the colour's a bit naff and matches my roots. It was reduced because it had a teeny tiny scratch on a mudguard.
I couldn't resist splurging because I'm sick of the buckled wheel on my other bike, I'm sick of riding that bike every single day, regretting that I didn't pay an extra 1,900 yen for the bike with 27 inch wheels, and wtf, I am not doing the rest of this fcking year on a shit bike, not when I have to ride it for at least an hour each day, and in my free time it's pretty much my only source of pleasure.
So I splurged.
When I leave, and if he's still around, I'll give the bike to the homeless man who lives in the castle grounds.
I also bought some whisky.
I've looked at this whisky before but never bought it, but today it came with a free glass, and always a sucker for a promotion, I succumbed and became the owner of a bottle of Kirin Fujisanroku.
And it's damn good.
It's the best whisky in this price range (1000 yen/$12) I have ever tasted.
Whilst I am very happy being a woman - I think we have deeper, longer lasting orgasms, our urine doesn't smell like what men's does, we don't have to shave until we reach our 70's, and we don't have to go through that sinking feeling that comes when the ex-wife gets half - I would, however, love to become a man, if only to get to drink Scotch and write awesome reviews on it.
The reviews!
I'm addicted to them.
The feeling I get when I read them - there's something about the words used - far beats that which comes from reading the back of a ketchup label.
Yep, I'm totally into whisky reviews.
Totally.
Descriptions like ~
Damp leaves, moist earth, like a walk through the forest after rainfall.
Initial spiced dark currants, cherry, over-ripe black grapes, transitions mid-palate to a teensy weensy bit raw, unadulterated alcohol. Brackish water comes to mind.
Sweet Graham crackers, some maltiness, chased by a spiciness that quickly degenerates into graininess.
There is some vanilla and oak, but it's stale and reminiscent of the smell you'd suffer when sitting in a taxi, that is supposedly non-smoking. Remnants of stale cigarette smoke, windows up on a hot summer day with car sickness only minutes away.
Dragon's breath fiery, nose crinkling waft of alcohol .
Butterscotch, honey with a nice zing of spice. Put simply this is a Coffee Crisp bar, enveloped in fine cigar smoke, in your glass!
I know, I know, I'm going crazy, sitting here, getting all excited over whisky reviews.
I am pathetic.
This is the Year Of Pathetic, or YOP, for short.
Thank god it's nearly over.
22nd December, I am outta here for 3 weeks.
Then I come back and it will either be about me, or about we, both directions will take me far, far, far from the keyboard crowd, indeed, I don't want to sit at a computer, beyond updating the blog with adventuresome tales, ever again.
I never want to listen to another BBC Podcast.
I won't give a toss about Inside Legs.
Iran? Who?
This year has been too intense, too alone, and I have gone crazy.
No wonder I have moved on to the hard stuff.
Anyway, here's my attempt to review Kirin Whisky Fuji San Roku 50%.
Nose: (Undiluted) A blend of acetone and WD-40.
Palate: Dunno. I just can't find the words to describe whisky. I guess I need a cock to be able to do this.
Finish: Uh, I guess, when there's none left in the glass.
Regardless of the emotional crap I wake up with, I tried to keep myself busy for the rest of the day.
I went cycling.
I bought another bike.
I bought some whisky.
I had a picnic by myself, fittingly next to the koi pond I often cry into, and blah di blah, fck this year.
Oops sorry.
I should stop complaining, my life is a breeze compared to the life of some other chicks in Japan.
Look at Kari-Girl, who must surely get stressed each weekend, what with her blog being called, "Internationalising Japan One Knobu At A Time" or words to that effect.
 |
| This hurts my eyes, too |
I mean, imagine the pressure you'd feel having to find material for that kind of blog each and every weekend.
I feel sorry for the girl, I really do.
At least my blog doesn't rely on me having to score some cock for each update, and for this I am thankful, and all my problems- the loneliness, the exile, the Michelangelo Forehead- they are all nothing, nothing compared to what my life would be like if I had to go out every weekend to hunt and gather chinko.
I'm tigressing.
Yeah, I bought a bike.
A brand new bike.
I noticed it while I was paying for some new Polarised sunglasses, having left my old ones on the plane this past summer, and it was reduced hugely - from 19,980 yen, to 7,980 yen - and had gears, a basket and 27 inch wheels! My dream shopping bike albeit the colour's a bit naff and matches my roots. It was reduced because it had a teeny tiny scratch on a mudguard.
I couldn't resist splurging because I'm sick of the buckled wheel on my other bike, I'm sick of riding that bike every single day, regretting that I didn't pay an extra 1,900 yen for the bike with 27 inch wheels, and wtf, I am not doing the rest of this fcking year on a shit bike, not when I have to ride it for at least an hour each day, and in my free time it's pretty much my only source of pleasure.
So I splurged.
When I leave, and if he's still around, I'll give the bike to the homeless man who lives in the castle grounds.
I also bought some whisky.
 |
| I LOVE the free glass. It's got Fuji-San on it. |
I've looked at this whisky before but never bought it, but today it came with a free glass, and always a sucker for a promotion, I succumbed and became the owner of a bottle of Kirin Fujisanroku.
 |
| Served on the rocks with grown-up Poki - Cinnamon and Black Pepper. I took them out after the photo shoot. |
And it's damn good.
It's the best whisky in this price range (1000 yen/$12) I have ever tasted.
 |
| This glass rocks |
Whilst I am very happy being a woman - I think we have deeper, longer lasting orgasms, our urine doesn't smell like what men's does, we don't have to shave until we reach our 70's, and we don't have to go through that sinking feeling that comes when the ex-wife gets half - I would, however, love to become a man, if only to get to drink Scotch and write awesome reviews on it.
The reviews!
I'm addicted to them.
The feeling I get when I read them - there's something about the words used - far beats that which comes from reading the back of a ketchup label.
Yep, I'm totally into whisky reviews.
Totally.
Descriptions like ~
Damp leaves, moist earth, like a walk through the forest after rainfall.
Initial spiced dark currants, cherry, over-ripe black grapes, transitions mid-palate to a teensy weensy bit raw, unadulterated alcohol. Brackish water comes to mind.
Sweet Graham crackers, some maltiness, chased by a spiciness that quickly degenerates into graininess.
There is some vanilla and oak, but it's stale and reminiscent of the smell you'd suffer when sitting in a taxi, that is supposedly non-smoking. Remnants of stale cigarette smoke, windows up on a hot summer day with car sickness only minutes away.
Dragon's breath fiery, nose crinkling waft of alcohol .
Butterscotch, honey with a nice zing of spice. Put simply this is a Coffee Crisp bar, enveloped in fine cigar smoke, in your glass!
I know, I know, I'm going crazy, sitting here, getting all excited over whisky reviews.
I am pathetic.
This is the Year Of Pathetic, or YOP, for short.
Thank god it's nearly over.
 |
| If I get married, we are going to customise one of these trucks and travel the planet, as well as sailing the planet, of course. |
Then I come back and it will either be about me, or about we, both directions will take me far, far, far from the keyboard crowd, indeed, I don't want to sit at a computer, beyond updating the blog with adventuresome tales, ever again.
I never want to listen to another BBC Podcast.
I won't give a toss about Inside Legs.
 |
| If that Rhine photo is worth over $4m, then this one is worth at least half that |
Iran? Who?
 |
| An interfering kant |
This year has been too intense, too alone, and I have gone crazy.
 |
| A dead end. I know them well. |
No wonder I have moved on to the hard stuff.
 |
| It's really good. I wish I could find the right words to describe it. |
Anyway, here's my attempt to review Kirin Whisky Fuji San Roku 50%.
Nose: (Undiluted) A blend of acetone and WD-40.
Palate: Dunno. I just can't find the words to describe whisky. I guess I need a cock to be able to do this.
Finish: Uh, I guess, when there's none left in the glass.
9 comments:
LOL, you crack me up. You may think you've had a horrible year, but at least your tan has held up. That glass does rock, and for us real girls who do partake of the whiskey, we don't need any words to describe it, just pass the bottle, if it's crap we'll let you know.
I guess you need a cock, too. I hope whatever the outcome of your dilemma, you get some quality shagging out of it.
I concur on the whisky thing. I like women who like whisky...but getting hammered on whisky is a coarse thing. A double at the tail end of an evening with a fire nearby is, however, magic and is conducive to greater things.
I tend to favour Islay single malts, myself. It's pronounced "EYE-la", btw...throws off the punters.
You are so daring!!! I won't even go around the block if I don't have my pump and tire patching kit....
Ha! Master Rhys, a whisky connoisseur! Have you tried Penderyn? Aur Cymru (Welsh Gold)
For the review Minos would write something along the lines of :
The moment one handles the distinctive bottle and gazes upon that superb, rich golden liquor within (the colour of which, incidentally, is a perfect match to the deep golden eye colour of one of my much loved felines) one knows this is something very special.
Un-stoppering the bottle (there is nothing so vulgar as a tin screw cap to this masterpiece) one experiences the first hint of aroma ........hmmm, promising, and expectations increase. Pouring with care, but none too sparingly, into a favoured and treasured glass from which only the best is ever imbibed, serves to heighten those expectation to an almost unbearable point...and then as the anticipation of the experience is held teetering, the glass is raised for the first encounter. Initially the taste is rather a tease, only gently caressing the palate, but then as the liquid penetrates deeper into the taste buds, the true power and depth of this precious commodity is unleashed. Wonderfully smooth accompanied by extensive breadth of flavour, from a hint of fruit to that of a subtle 'oakyness' pervade the senses.
As for the finish; Penderyn is a member of a unique club, leaving an unforgettable inner warmth of complete satisfaction arising from ever decreasing gently lapping waves of flavour. And, as even these begin to fade away, in their wake, one is treated to a feeling of well-being not unlike that experienced when watching the sun setting on a glass flat sea at the end of a perfect day.
It is indeed a golden experience to be treasured
A true delight.
Fore shore, there will be good stocks of this Welsh Gold stowed safely aboard the Minos Blew Water Bottle Cruiser, shortly afore setting sail for regions unknown. (To him at any rate).
And Now,
M, I understand what you say and how you feel about this year, but it will turn out to be your benchmark year. We all need one if we are to truly attain a point at which we can assess the past's experiences and view everything with the perspective necessary to give us the answer to that which we seek.
So...I have talked myself into a corner...No! .....a glass of the Aur Cymru. The glass itself, a small whisky tumbler, is the only survivor from my great grandfather's array of drinking vessels. And considering the great age of Minos, that means this precious glass is clocking on a bit. I treat it with the care it deserves.
Quite an endorsement, Minos. You've made me thristy. I'll have to get one of my Welsh relatives to ship me a bottle.
That's a lovely anecdote about your whisky glass, Minos, and thanks for everything - bit low behind the blogging scenes - and yep, that's an excellent way to look at this year, as the Benchmark Year. Like it very much. I was just sitting here, in bed, thinking, 'what I miss most is being able to look forward to something', which I still cannot do, what with not knowing how the winter is going to go, regardless of the fact that he says he wants me forever, and only me, etc, because all of this has messed with me so much, that I am not the same person who fell in love so innocently, so deeply, all those years ago, and all I want these days, more than anything, is that simple joyous feeling that comes when looking forward to something, when the present seems worth the sacrifice, and right now, I am in that awful no mans land, not knowing which side I'm going to wind up on, and therefore unable to truly relax in the present, which is why I wanted to see him BEFORE Xmas, instead of having the pressure on me 'to fix all this honey before you get here, let's iron it all out now'. How can you do that via email???!!!
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I don't drink to get hammered, I drink because I like the taste of the liquor. Kinda like that guy said about snorting cocaine, he liked the way it smelled.
Si, I concur with Judith. The lady readers of this blog, are distinguished drinkers, well, apart from that harlot, Lady Liz. ;)
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