I liked watching the little ice chip melt into the amber. I could see a little tail stream down to the bottom of the glass. The water kept to itself, and appeared more viscous than the whiskey. It looked like the beginnings of a tiny genie getting ready to seduce me with a few wishes. First one came true already.
Well, I was going to write about the truth paradox tonight... instead I wrote about whiskey. But I guess it's worth mentioning anyway. Wendell has quoted on occasion (I really wish I could remember from where) that, "at the end of every truth is a paradox." It didn't blow my mind or anything when he first said it, because I think I've definitely felt the gravity of that statement before. But day by day, I feel its effect ever stronger, and as my brain gets tangled with paradoxes of a general sort, it gets at once tangled and untangled by life's great paradox eternally. And as I sludge through everything that's important and unimportant, I understand more and simultaneously become more confused. Every now and then, I wish I had not been burdened with certain knowledge, but then as time passes, I'm glad to have learned that bit more about _______.
So, one of my favorite things to do is to get a flight of whiskeys (or just a bunch of friends that each get a different pour), try them all side by side, and describe them. I have an excellent palate, if I do say so myself, and the more I have in a go, the better I get at picking out the flavors. Try me some time. I'm really good. This makes me want to go to Fette Sau, get some $3 pulled pork sandwiches, and banter the night away.
Here we go, Day 87: https://ia800502.us.archive.org/14/items/Improv11911/11_9_119_23Pm.mp3