liquor

September 19, 2019

Don’t you drink? I notice you speak slightingly of the bottle. I have drunk since I was fifteen and few things have given me more pleasure. When you work hard all day with your head and know you must work again the next day what else can change your ideas and make them run on a different plane like whisky? When you are cold and wet what else can warm you? Before an attack who can say anything that gives you the momentary well-being that rum does?… The only time it isn’t good for you is when you write or when you fight. You have to do that cold. But it always helps my shooting. Modern life, too, is often a mechanical oppression and liquor is the only mechanical relief.

Ernest Hemingway
Letter to Ivan Kashkin 19 August 1935

Being an artist separates you from things in general. One’s mind is working at a faster, more sensitive, more rapid, eye-batting level than most people’s. Most people, let’s say, have ten perceptions per minute, whereas an artist has about sixty or seventy perceptions per minute. I think that’s honestly the reason why so many writers drink or take pills or whatever: to calm themselves down, to quiet this continuous, rapid-running machine. I know that’s why Tennessee Williams did. He had to take sedatives and drinks like that because he had one of the most rapid-running, perceptive minds. He didn’t sleep very well.

Truman Capote
Conversations with Capote

your gash

March 23, 2019

I drink from your gash
I spread your naked legs
I open them like a book
where I read what kills me.

Georges Bataille
From: The Collected Poems of Georges Bataille
Trans. Mark Spitzer

Peedeel at Christmas

 

Dear God, I’m so glad Christmas is over for another year. I’ve consumed industrial quantities of confectionary, drank euro-lakes of wine and at least one barrel of very fine brandy. I’ve gained weight I didn’t need – don’t know how much, I’m too frightened to go near the scales; and I believe that if I did raise the courage to step on them, the scales would either break or scream, “One person at a time, please!” in a loud shrill voice.

P

Who the hell is this Moderation we’re all s’posed to be drinking with?

Good advice

April 29, 2018

The space beyond truth

April 9, 2017

Diary 9th April

Me, age ten. My older cousin Debs, fair and freckled, hitched up her skirt in the bathroom to show me where a boy must put “his thing” to make a baby.

“Obviously,” she reassured me, “it’s got to be stiff when you do that…”

And funnily enough, looking at what she had down there, I was very stiff. But a baby…? How could a baby come from such a small opening?

#

My mother spoke frequently of my sister’s second husband’s sexual problems. These she attributed to an excess of wanking as a child. He had, she insisted, a terrible crush on another boy while in sixth form college. My sister, lacking a penis, was no doubt second best when it came to his choice of life-partner. Although how my mother acquired such intimate knowledge of him I haven’t the slightest idea.

#

The beautiful weather continues. I will spend the day in the garden, pottering about in the bright sunshine and drinking G&Ts from tall iced glasses. Probably, we’ll all be legless by teatime.

#

Aromatherapy has been practiced for many, many years. There is, of course, a spiritual side to this form of massage. There are Wiccans who in their practice of witchcraft can create potions and elixirs which by the ritual reciting of spells energise these herbs and ingredients to a whole new level of potency. They are able to produce aromatherapy oils that work on the brain, creating states of euphoria and bliss the like of which you will never have experienced before.

#

And, of course, we’re thinking about Beltane. Food, drink and love starting on the evening of 30th April and continuing throughout the 1st of May in celebration of the Gods and Goddess’ of fertility and love. It is a time of fire and raw sex. Bonfires and rituals. A time to practice “The Great Rite”, reenacting the creation of the universe through acts of ritual sex – celebrating our bodies and creating magical power while engaging in acts of love outdoors. Perfect.

August 3, 2016

don't spill

Drink

March 24, 2016

wineglass

Drink, drink, drink men in loud shirts
yelp followed by forfeit, forfeit forfeit.
The girl who doesn’t down her cocktail
in one has to kiss me. Drink, drink, drink
a man in loafers bellows. In one, in one,
down in one, get them down you girls.
A man in loafers, who thinks the world
revolves around him yells drink, drink.
Men in loud ties chant, Forfeit, forfeit.
One of you lovely ladies has to kiss me
now come on don’t be shy. Drink, drink.

Nicola Daly

(Nicola Daly’s poems have been published in Envoi, Magma, Myslexia, and The Shop.)

Good Seasonal Message…

October 9, 2015

drink&drive