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| A friend of mine (whom I will call Dave, 'cos that's his name) converted his darkroom into a makeshift absinthe distillery for a period of some months a couple of years ago. For the better part of a year, he and I and our rather jaded circle of friends (nearly all bar employees and heavy drinkers)drank the green stuff with shocking regularity, with and without sugar. Over this period, Dave honed and perfected his recipe, finally achieving an apotheosis of sorts with it. The final batches were clear, like diluted apple juice, and had an alcohol content beyond anything I have ever experienced. Throughout that summer I think the most notable thing about the absinthe high was not anything hallucinogenic or psychichally revelatory in any way, it was simply the speed and intensity with which I attained criminal drunkenness. Whole days of my life were completely expunged from memory, while I am assured I was wide awake and performing mischief wherever I went. What I do remember about the experience is seeing a lot of my friends in a similar state, doing VERY uncharacteristic things, and remember these are all people who drink a great deal, indulge in a wide variety of drugs, and generally engage in depraved and hedonistic behavior on a regular basis, just to have something to do on a Monday night. Dave eventually tore down the still one fine afternoon, when he got into the shower and couldn't remember what part of his body the shampoo and conditioner were intended to be used on. The remaining bottles were distributed among those of us he was able to find. I still have a liter bottle, unopened, hidden in the garage, but I can't for the life of me think of an occasion that would be appropriate to open the damned thing, much less drink it. The general consensus of opinion 'round here seems to be that though we may be decadent, we ain't THAT decadent...yet. |
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