Heart Cooks Brain

My father is a huge buff for Budweiser which he crowns as the King of Beers. I remember once having a group of friends around; my dad asks the gang Hey fellas got any beers I can grab. We show him our fort the high gravity delights and he nods his head in disapproval saying What's with all this expensive shit can't I just get a Budweiser for Christ's sake? We chuckle and my soul brother, Anthony Zazzarino, replies How about you just water down one of these good beers, Mr. Peeples? Budweiser remains absolute watery rubbish in the beer world as a comparison to any decent brew (Note: living in Asheville for a few years, my beer snob attitude increased dramatically, though just two months in China have dwindled my fair taste in the fermented concoction and I am much obliged for anything that can take the edge off of life...my Irish heritage has taught me something I suppose...of course not forgetting the brilliant works of Wilde, Joyce, and Beckett). Here in China the beer quality is complete shit...if you have ever tried TsingTao that alone should be a fair indicator of what we are working with over here; there is also the baijiu (Chinese liquor) which doesn't taste completely awful but the inside lining of your stomach may just disagree with that sentiment come the next morning. My point in all this folly remains a certain longing for things I never noticed I enjoyed and honestly I still question if they are things I actually like or if it is simply the sake for remembrance of a world left behind. I fucking hate Budweiser, I only drank the stuff when I lived with my parents because my dad always kept himself stocked on the poison and didn't mind if I helped myself to a few (Note: to some extent, there were times he would get pissed if I drank the vast majority of a 24 pack he planned on saving for a few days). I haven't tried it here yet, but there are times walking down the aisles in the Grocery store or walking down the street passing by a bar with a Budweiser advert nestled in the window beckoning the longing of any perplexed American walking down that desolate road life. I spent three dollars on an Arizona tea a few weeks back (Note: Arizona only costs a dollar a can back home, and CVS normally has sales for buy one get one) though this was before I discovered there is Chinese sweet tea and the concept of cold, sweetened black tea is not just a Southern thing....oh the weight I haven't lost just because I supplement water from time to time with sweet tea.

Cleavage is nonexistent over here; The skimpy skirts and the whole affair of showing off one's buttox are still in fashion here (Note: being a committed assman, one would presume this suffices as no problem for my person, yet alas we want what we cannot obtain...thus the entire premise behind this post). I saw a Russian woman showcasing huge knockers yesterday and I could not help gazing upon the bosomful display. I digress.

I want some damn cheese quesadillas....a go-to meal during my college deals considering the simplicity in such preparation. Ramen noodles still remain a corner stone in the Drew Peeples food pyramid, though cheese has somehow escaped my diet (Note: nobody eats cheese in China :( ) resulting in infinite melancholy. I was asked by my adult class the other night what kind of fine cuisines they could find in a visit to the states? I simply explained to them most American food is a bastardization of more diverse, cultural foods then went into detail what American Chinese food tasted like...they got a good laugh though still curious if I was actually telling the truth or if I was just pulling the legs of these older Chinese women. Speaking of food, tis time for me to grab some lamb bbq at the stand resting round the bottom of the hill...

Back to the topic of long lost beers, my favorite variety of beer is a good old fashioned Indian Pale Ale and my hopes of grabbing a sixpack here looks slim. At a bar the other night I nearly paid 8 USD for a pint of the stuff just because I haven't a clue where else I can grab a taste. What do I want after I find a decent supply of this desire o mine? Live music, preferably a band I fancy quite a bit. The reality of that happening here? Slim to none. Something so common in my everyday life back home, yet here a near impossibility.

I did not come to China for the things I 'left behind,' but rather to further explore myself and the vast world existing out here and the roundabouts. To end on a corny note, as I most often am accustomed to by this point, I would like to address the thing that doesn't change regardless of location: friends; comrades; companions, lovers, coworkers, and the list goes on and on. There still remain good people, myself included, regardless of where I am placed and that is what makes the whole mess a splendid time. Sure, an IPA would be opportune right now, yet everything else that is going right makes these little things unimportant and slowly, but surely, I am learning to stop caring if the little things are going right (Note: not giving in to my constant anxiety, the one I attempt to rid myself of allowing smokes and drinks to clear the mind) and rather making sure the whole picture becomes a beautiful masterpiece.