I write personal journal entries whenever I have the time and can manage to put it down. These come infrequently. Like any journal, it’s a lot of personal thoughts and feelings, stuff I can’t possibly imagine sharing, much less on a public level. But this latest journal entry is something I’ve been wanting to share. It’s very expository and nothing will likely come of this post. But for the few who might still notice what I have to offer, this is a piece which, though barely proofread and only just now written, is still very close to me. No pictures, just the text and what I have to offer. If you read it all then you should understand why. If you don’t, no matter, I’ll just be back with what I already have.
I still can’t believe I’ve reached a point where I truly enjoy alcohol. I can remember when I thought it should be done away entirely, all due to the hazards that come with it. But now I see it as this incredible way of life in some ways. The industry is daunting, albeit with no shortage of overly wacky creations, but you get that everywhere. And the way I like to enjoy alcohol the most? Cocktails. It’s like food in how the right two (or more) ingredients can create something truly wondrous. In a way, this is how I (and many others) got started drinking. I hate to be another subject of the cliches, but my tolerance came with rum and Coke. Before long, however, I was seeking different stuff. Actually, scratch that, I wanted to try different stuff from the get-go, which is what I did. Bacardi Oakheart, Devil’s Cut by Jim Beam, Jameson and Bailey’s, Captain Morgan Black, Jack Daniel’s Honey. These were among my first forays into drinking, which has ultimately led to a still-developing appreciation for the individual beverages. And while the last two of the aforementioned liquors made me realize just how tasty alcohol can be, it wasn’t until I repeatedly dipped into Jameson’s territory that I truly understood the integrity and complexity that comes with a single distilled beverage
As I said, mixed drinks and cocktails were (and still are) my means to enjoy drinks in social gatherings. And after having Jameson mixed with Bailey’s, I thought “why not mix it with Monster Irish Coffee?” As horrible an idea as that was, I’d still relive it before combining Jameson with, say, ginger ale. In fact, before long, I came to find that Jameson doesn’t belong in any recipe. There were two results I always got when mixing Jameson: the burn and alcohol would tear right through the rest of the drink, eradicating any and all enjoyment, or the combination would be so watered down and nasty that I might as well grab a low-end pack of beer. It was around that point, after trying Jameson on its own, that I started enjoying the drink for what it was, learning that it’s one of those drinks that literally needs to be taken on its own.
If I mix Jameson with something, the repugnant results make it feel like the drink (Jameson) is saying “don’t mix (and ruin) me, enjoy me as I am.” And when I do the true character and nature of Jameson comes through. Nothing more than a bit of ice or a splash of water is needed. So far, no other drink has come together with various flavors and characteristics which intrigue and impress me with each little sip. Certain rums certainly offer the flavor and even an instantly satisfying experience, but they aren’t nearly as unique and ever-provoking as something like Jameson.
The experience of it all is like a mental journey, originating with my taste buds and sense of smell, two things I often feel like I live for. With that, having even a small drink of Jameson is like having an exchange with myself. I want to be seen for who I am, not for how I mix with others. I feel I have something different to offer, something many others may or may not have, and even I probably don’t know what. There’s definition, but there’s also a lingering mystery and depth behind it all. The key difference, however, is that I’m nowhere near a renowned and celebrated status, except on an extremely small and local level. In that sense, Jameson is the Daniel Day-Lewis of alcohols, and I’m just one of the Lipnicki’s from The War, with Elijah Wood and Kevin Costner.