#sustainable liquor practices

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part twenty

summary: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: a lot of angst, mentions of mental health issues, time jump

author's note: good luck

It's been six months since you last saw Rafe Cameron.

The last conversation you both had was anything but pleasant, the words still stinging in your mind. The truth spilled out of you like a dam breaking, revealing the set-up against him that you and your friends had concocted. He pleaded for you to stay, his heart shattered into tiny pieces, and against your better judgement, you spent the night with him.

But as the sun rose and reality sank in, you knew it was best for you to leave before he woke up. You made a promise to give him space, hoping that he would come around on his own. But as days turned into weeks and then months, you never heard from him again.

Unable to face him at the golf course where he frequently visited, you quit your job there and found a new one at the Beach Club alongside JJ. The long hours and minimum wage were far from ideal, but it was enough to sustain you and JJ as you waited for your friends to return from hiding. In those moments, JJ became your lifeline - the only person who could make this unbearable situation even slightly bearable.

Each day seemed to drag on forever as you waited for that phone call from Rafe, hoping against all hope that he would forgive you and start fresh. But it never came. Slowly, a deep depression began to consume you as every day without him felt like a lifetime of agony. When you weren't working at the club, you locked yourself away in your room, trying to shut out the world and its painful reminders. Life lost its meaning as each day passed without any contact with Rafe. It felt like an endless cycle of loneliness and despair, an endless punishment for your foolish mistake.

"Hey there, how's it going, kid?" JJ inquires, coming up from behind with a pair of glass cups in each hand, interrupting your usual daydreaming routine. You straighten up your posture and forge a smile his way, watching as he scurried around the kitchen.

"Doing alright," you reply with a semi-flat tone, still somewhat detached from reality. "Is it a large gathering or something?" You motion towards the numerous cups he tossed into the sink, remnants of beer and liquor leaving their mark at the bottom.

"It was a damn party with sixteen people," he huffs, blowing loose strands of his blond hair out of his face. "Kids, parents, the whole shebang. It was a complete disaster."

You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head. "You'll have that, I guess."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all." You keep your statement brief, hoping to sidestep any further scrutiny from JJ, who has a knack for probing. You're aware that his concern stems from witnessing your gradual downturn since the breakup with Rafe. Every agonizing night, he'd pass by your room in the hallway, hearing the stifled sobs, mistakenly thinking you were keeping it quiet.

The sound of clanging dishes fills the air as Sofia, your coworker, enters the kitchen. She balances a stack of dirty plates in her arms and greets you and JJ with a wide smile. Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she poses her question, "Hey guys, am I missing out on some gossip in here?"

You shake your head, amused by JJ's usual grumblings about customers, "Not much besides JJ venting."

Sofia playfully rolls her eyes and lets out a giggle at JJ's never-ending frustration with their clientele. But then her expression turns more serious as she shares her news, "But hey, I wanted to let you guys know there's gonna be a huge bonfire at the boneyard tonight. You should come."

You hesitate, unsure if attending such an event is your thing. "We'll be there," JJ interjects confidently, nudging your side with his elbow.

You turn to him with a shocked expression, surprised that he would answer for both of you without consulting you first. But JJ just looks back at you with a smug grin, knowing that you would have declined the invitation if given the chance. After all, spending your nights locked away in your room was your preferred way to unwind after a shift.

"Great! I'll see you guys later then," Sofia beams at JJ's agreement before leaving the kitchen and heading back to the dining area. "Really, JJ? You know those kinds of events aren't my thing," you scowl at him, crossing your arms over your chest. If looks could kill, JJ would be dead by now.

"Well they used to your thing," JJ retorts, his tone firm but laced with concern. "You used to love going out, having fun, being around people. It's been months since...well, since everything happened with Rafe. And honestly, I'm worried about you. You've been shutting yourself off from the world, and it's not healthy."

You stare at him for a moment, his words sinking in. Despite your initial annoyance at his presumptuousness, you can't deny that he has a point. Since the fallout with Rafe, you've become a shell of your former self, hiding away from any social interaction and drowning in your own sorrow. As much as you hate to admit it, JJ is right – you need to start living again.

"Fine," you finally concede, sighing heavily. "I'll go to the bonfire tonight."

JJ's face breaks into a wide grin, relief evident in his eyes. "That's the spirit! Trust me, you'll have a good time. And who knows, maybe it'll help take your mind off things for a little while."

You can't help but feel a flicker of hope ignite deep within you. Maybe JJ is right. Maybe getting out and being around people again will help you heal, even if just a little bit. You try to push away the thoughts of Rafe that immediately flood your mind, but they still linger, like an unwanted guest overstaying their welcome.

As the day wears on, you find yourself in a state of nervous anticipation. You carefully pick out an outfit that strikes the delicate balance between casual and put-together, not wanting to draw too much attention but also wanting to feel good about yourself. When evening falls and the sky is painted with hues of orange and pink, you make your way out to the boneyard.

The beach is alive with activity as people gather around the roaring bonfire. The sound of laughter and music fills the air, and you can feel the vibrant energy pulsating through the crowd. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and step into the midst of the festivities.

JJ appears by your side, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Ready for some fun?" he asks, his voice barely audible above the clamor of voices and music.

You nod, summoning all your courage. "Yeah, let's do this."

As you navigate through the throng of people, you catch glimpses of familiar faces from work and around town. Sofia waves at you from a group near the fire, her smile infectious. You offer her a wave in return, grateful for her invitation tonight.

As you approach the fire, the heat washes over you, and you feel its warmth seep into your bones. The crackling of the flames is hypnotic, luring you closer like a moth to a flame. You find yourself drawn to the dancing shadows that flicker against the night sky.

JJ leads you to a group of people gathered around a makeshift bar not too far from the fire. The air is thick with laughter and conversation, and the scent of toasted marshmallows mingles with the salty sea breeze. You feel a sense of belonging in this moment, as if the weight upon your shoulders is slowly being lifted.

Sofia greets you with a hug, her cheerful demeanor contagious. "I'm so glad you made it. We were starting to think you might bail!"

You laugh nervously, feeling a surge of gratitude for these people who have accepted you into their circle without question. "No chance of that now," you reply, trying to match Sofia's energy.

As the night unfolds, Sofia guides you through the lively crowd, introducing you to various friends and acquaintances. The beach is bathed in the warm glow of the bonfire, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You start to feel a sense of belonging, appreciating the distraction from the weight of your thoughts.

Sofia eventually leads you towards a group of people gathered near a makeshift bar. The atmosphere here is electric, with the scent of salty sea breeze mingling with the aroma of toasted marshmallows. You watch as a skilled bartender whips up drinks, and the chatter around the bar is animated.

As Sofia continues with introductions, you exchange pleasantries with the friendly faces around you. The nervous anticipation begins to ease, replaced by a growing sense of enjoyment in the company of these new friends.

Suddenly, Sofia mentions that she wants to introduce you to her close-knit group of friends, and she guides you through the crowd towards a more secluded area. The noise from the bonfire and the distant waves becomes a distant hum as you navigate through the lively gathering.

Sofia's friends are engaged in conversation, their laughter punctuating the night air. You offer polite smiles as Sofia introduces you to each person in the group—Topper, Kelce, and then, the name that makes your heart skip a beat, Rafe.

The moment your eyes lock onto Rafe's, a wave of emotions crashes over you. His appearance, altered since the last time you saw him, is evident in the buzzcut that replaces his once unruly hair. His eyes, once filled with a youthful spark, now carry the weight of experiences and challenges. They appear more mature but also worn down, leaving you to wonder if the breakup and its aftermath have taken a toll on him.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the unresolved feelings and unspoken words between you two. The unrelenting gaze he holds sends shivers down your spine, a mixture of nostalgia and regret flooding your senses. It's as if time stands still, encapsulating the raw essence of the moment and the complex emotions entwined in your shared history.

Sofia, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, continues with the introductions. "This is Y/N, she works with me at the Beach Club. Y/N, meet Topper, Kelce, and, of course, Rafe."

You offer a polite smile, trying to maintain composure despite the tension emanating from Rafe. The silence stretches, and the unspoken words hang heavily in the air. Rafe remains silent, his intense gaze locked onto yours. The once-familiar connection now carries an undeniable weight, and the emotions between you are palpable. The distance between you and Rafe feels both vast and intimate, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. His silence speaks volumes, and the unspoken dialogue between you becomes a poignant narrative of the time that has passed.

The sight of Sofia walking up beside Rafe, followed by his embrace, sends a sinking feeling straight to your heart. A knot tightens in your stomach as you watch the two of them, and Sofia's words hit you like a sudden storm. "Y/N, meet my boyfriend, Rafe," she says, her voice filled with happiness.

Shock sets in, and your world seems to tilt on its axis. The revelation that Rafe, the person you once shared everything with, has found solace and companionship with Sofia creates a sense of nausea. The emotions swirling within you are a tumultuous mix of disbelief, betrayal, and a deep ache that seems to resonate with each beat of your heart.

Your gaze remains fixed on them, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before you. The bonfire's glow casts a surreal light on the trio, emphasizing the complexity of the situation. Questions flood your mind, and you find yourself grappling with the harsh reality of Rafe moving on while you're still entangled in the aftermath.

With a flat tone, you manage to say, "We've met before," acknowledging the shared history that once connected you and Rafe. The air grows heavy, and his jaw clenches even tighter, creating an unspoken tension that hangs between you two. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingers in the air, creating an atmosphere thick with discomfort and uncertainty.

Sofia looks between you and Rafe, sensing the tension but not fully understanding the depth of your past connection. She decides to change the subject, suggesting that you all grab drinks and join the group by the bonfire. The invitation hangs in the air, leaving you with a choice to make – whether to navigate the night alongside Rafe and Sofia or find a way to retreat from the situation.

Despite the internal turmoil, you manage a strained smile, agreeing to join the larger group. The trio makes their way toward the makeshift bar, where you can't help but feel Rafe's eyes on you. The silence between you is deafening, each step echoing with the weight of unspoken history.

As you reach the bar, Sofia engages in casual banter with the bartender, leaving you and Rafe standing side by side. The awkwardness is palpable, a silent conversation unfolding between stolen glances and lingering tension. The air becomes charged with the ghosts of memories – the shared laughter, the whispered confessions, and the painful parting words.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the discomfort, a familiar one calling out to Sofia. She excuses herself, leaving you and Rafe alone for the first time since your worlds shattered. The seconds stretch into an eternity as you both avoid direct eye contact.

Finally, Rafe breaks the silence. His voice is low, tinged with a hint of regret. "It's been awhile."

Rafe's comment about the passage of time lingers in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the distance that has grown between you. You keep your gaze fixed on the ground, finding it too painful to meet his eyes. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you.

"Yeah," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the surrounding noise. "It has been a while."

A heavy pause follows, filled with the unspoken truth of your separation. The mention of time only serves to underscore the absence of communication, the unanswered questions, and the silence that has defined these months of solitude.

"You never called," you say, your words tinged with a mixture of hurt and frustration. The memories of that night resurface, the promises unfulfilled, and the subsequent silence that followed. The pain of that unanswered call echoes in your voice, a testament to the unresolved emotions that have lingered for far too long.

Rafe's jaw tightens as he absorbs your words. The unspoken tension in the air seems to thicken, heavy with the weight of unaddressed issues. The crowd around you continues to buzz with life, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Rafe. It's a moment suspended in time, caught between the past and the present, with the possibility of either reconciliation or further divergence.

Rafe's silence lingers for a moment, and just as the tension becomes almost unbearable, Sofia reappears at his side, seemingly oblivious to the underlying dynamics. She takes hold of Rafe's arm and playfully insists he joins her in the revelry. He glances back at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you can't quite decipher.

"See you around, Y/n," Rafe says in a voice that carries a tinge of sadness before he's gently pulled away into the crowd by Sofia. The moment hangs in the air as he disappears, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions. The reality of seeing Rafe after all these months hits you, and the weight of the encounter settles heavily on your shoulders. The bonfire blazes on, the crackling flames providing an ironic backdrop to the unspoken turmoil within.

The air is thick with a mix of emotions as you hastily navigate through the crowd, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over. The vibrant atmosphere around you is now a blur as you search desperately for JJ, the only anchor in this sea of turmoil. Your heart pounds with a sense of urgency, the need to escape the situation becoming more palpable with each passing second.

Finally spotting JJ near the makeshift bar, you approach him with a sense of desperation. His eyes widen in concern as he takes in your tear-strained face. "Hey, what happened?" he asks, his voice a soothing anchor in the midst of chaos.

You grab his arm, almost pulling him away from the crowd. "We need to leave, JJ. Now," you implore, your voice choked with emotion. He doesn't ask questions, simply nodding and following your lead. The two of you slip away from the bonfire, leaving behind the flickering flames and the haunting specter of a past you weren't ready to face.

As you retreat from the beach, the distant sounds of laughter and music fade into the background. The cool night air offers a temporary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. JJ walks silently beside you, giving you the space to process whatever had transpired.

As you and JJ continue to walk away from the beach, the words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky confession. "He's dating Sofia," you manage to say, the weight of the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Before you know it, the tears you've been holding back begin to stream down your face.

JJ's eyes soften with understanding, and without a word, he wraps his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The sobs escape from deep within you, each one carrying the pain of witnessing the person you once loved move on with someone else.

You let the waves of emotion crash over you, leaning into JJ's support. His presence is a balm, a reminder that you're not alone in this difficult moment. The two of you stand there, the night air filled with the sound of your quiet sobs and the distant echoes of the beach party you've left behind.

In that vulnerable moment, JJ remains a steady anchor, offering solace without the need for words. The weight of heartbreak is momentarily eased by the warmth of his embrace, and for now, you find comfort in the friendship that has become your lifeline.

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[solarpunkbusiness]

Biodegradable Plastic made from Tequila Agave Waste

Tequila is one of Mexico’s most iconic and successful exports. According to the Tequila Regulatory Council, for each liter of tequila produced, twelve liters of organic waste is discarded.

Ana Laborde, a businesswoman from Mexico, discovered the wasteful practices behind tequila production – she thought that producing bioplastic bags could be a successful and sustainable business opportunity.

Ana began researching biodegradable alternatives to the ubiquitous plastic bag. However, she grew concerned that many of the common sources of bioplastics, such as corn and potatoes, might better be used as food. Mentioning this to her cousin, who worked in the tequila industry, Ana learned about the vast amounts of unused agave leaves – approximately 400,000 tons each year – created during the liquor’s production. If plant fibers could be easily extracted from agave leaves, she reasoned, this unwanted by-product might be an untapped source of bioplastic.

Her objective was to develop a process to extract cellulose, the molecule that gives plants their structural integrity, from agave leaves. The extracted cellulose could then be used to make biodegradable plastic bags, containers and cleaning supplies. With technical assistance from Mexico’s Center for the Investigation of Applied Chemistry, the team successfully developed this process.

Ana persevered, and in the years since BioSolutions has established strong links with plastic injection molding companies and manufacturers of homeware and promotional materials. BioSolutions’ flexibility has allowed it to expand its product line and customers over time. In 2019, it announced a collaboration with the Jose Cuervo tequila brand to for bars, restaurants and events across Mexico and the United States. BioSolutions is also producing bioplastic beer glasses for concert arenas and stadiums using waste from beer production, an opportunity which required Ana’s team to alter the manufacturing process.

[bookishcatcafe]

Ristretto in Pink (A Huskerdust Fic) Part Four

(--)()()()(z)(z)(z)(wnwnwnwnwn)

“A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand, a seal’s, far out on the water, round. Usurper.”- James Joyce Ulysses (23)

Thus, the bloodied brutal brute pulped and purpled pushed and plummeted down the stairs in a crashing array as if orchestrated Wagnerly and with no end. Husk saw from his room with a view on the second story of Fitzgerald’s casino. He left to the tables. His streak began when the die fell on black 32, continuing with a rush of gasps, he bet on red 4, 7, and black 48. Again.

Again.

Again.

Tomorrow and tomorrow, the next and like prior, the cat continued to bet till it was done. Even in drunken stupor, he twinged at the tugging at his heart that was the cards and table. Men fell where he stood in cries of anguish; losers all-in-all at chance and had to be tossed out when the rowdiness began. Husk felt not for these tricks, he had just another card in the sleeve of his hat, in which prowess was his crowned jewel.

The cards were flipped: 15 total. He stared, shakingly at his deck, before asking his final call,

“Hit me!” And another card was dealt with a deep force, cracking the tabletop with a snap, which led a direct hit into the cat’s lungs. 24. His fur, if it could do such an act as skin, went pale. The dealer dragged his breath from his lungs, as if a kick to the chest. Yet the game was not over, it wasn’t! Husk leaped across the table and grabbed the dealer by the shirt, pulling one of his suspenders back far enough to ricochet back into him with a loud snap against the sinner’s chest. After a couple landed punches and a butt against the chin, two large hounds grabbed Husk by under the shoulders, and dragged him into a nearby room.

The room was dark, except for a now flickering lamp on a desk. The hounds pushed him against a wall and began drilling punch after punch into him, a rather plump and medium sized shark stood in the corner, the light shone on his side, and as each punch flopped the cat around, with barely a clear view, he could make out some semblance of his person.

“First you take our money. I give you a room. I give you girls. I give you liquor. But now, you lose it all; this is the third time this week you fuckin’ throw away my money! You practically sunk us, Husker! You’s not allowed in my casino, or any others in partnership of mine till you pay us back.” He went toward the door, opening it, before clicking his tongue, causing the two hounds to grab H. and with a swift kick of the side-door, throw him out into the alley.

If you were to stand in silence, waiting for the day to end, such a short span feels endless, though life isn’t eternal; ‘cept here.

Laying in the concrete, blood bubbling from his lips, and a tear down his cheek, he could not feel his chest as his veins poked and split and drained and drowned him. Nausea: such a nausea he had known in a long, long time. His life up to now was a bar song sewn in a phantom thread, dipped first in booze, and dried off by the flames of green-unprovided tender.

As he came to and seemingly without his own acknowledgement, he was dragging himself out of the alley, sitting up beside the brick wall, where quietly the sound of piano inched its way to his ears. Then a voice.

“Ah…and that my fresh new listeners was a piece of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier. Isn’t it such a treat? A delight to the senses? Oh, I’d say it tickles a fancy as a bit of sax and booze, wouldn’t you agree, friends?” A click and then a spinning of vinyl, before a sudden growing from vocal pianissimo.

“Tonight I wish to present the vocal jam to our peanut butter and jelly, the genius of Miss Holiday herself. After which, Fitzgerald and Louis take the reins.” As the static groaned, like the creaking of a floorboard, Billie Holiday began to sing. A shadow drained out of the radio’s grate, onto the street, and on the wall across Husk, growing upward into what felt like its honest form. The music began to static and skip before going back to normal.

The shadow dissipated into vapor and in its place a finely-dressed deer. He patted down his overcoat and fixed his tie before pulling his cane out from underneath his coat and pushing his weight down onto it, itself bending slightly, as he grinned with starving southern generosity.

“You seem down my fine furred friend.” He leaned closer and placed a hand on Husk’s face, rubbing his cheeks, fresh blood staining his fingers as he forced a smile by pulling apart his lips. Husk groaned and cursed as the man licked his fingers after quick inspection.

“You’re never dressed without a smile.” he said singsongingly, “For a hungry boy like yourself shouldn’t live without sustenance! Word is you gambled one too many chances, your nine lives is up, is it not?” Husk goes to speak but is interrupted.

“Why I believe I can help you in your little predicament!” he said gaily as he placed a hand on his chest and flaunted it with a gentle limp. Husk breathed heavily as he sat back against the wall, coughing blood before speaking.

“And how’d you propose that radiohead?” This struck a nerve, the man tilted his head with a sudden snap, and creaked as blinked.

“Why to make you as strong and powerful as all overlords should be!” Husk shuddered. How does he know?

“W..yo..You could fix me?”

“Fix you! Why, I could better you for all of Hell! Or Hell, I could make you better just for your own sake, altruistic or otherwise! So what is then, do we have a deal?” He put his hand out, grinning with just his lips, his sharped dentures hiding in shuddering anticipation. Husk felt his ribs ache and looked up to the sky, then to the towering casino from where he was chastised, and to the demon who stood in front of him humorous and red.

Husk shook his hand firmly, with nothing else to lose, except for the gravity of freedom.

[winewomanww]

Wine Woman Whisky Whisperer

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[sloshed-cinema]

From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

Some of Quentin Tarantino’s shall we say ‘proclivities’ are well-known and ribbed at.  But I never expected some of the more egregious moments in Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood to seem downright quaint by comparison to some of his other work.  This QT-penned Robert Rodriguez joint hardly even needs a Written By credit when a scene features Tarantino’s character singled out by Vampire Selma Hayek so she can shove her foot in his mouth and pour liquor down her leg into his throat.  Everyone knows exactly why that happened, coupled with the obsessive montage of Richard ogling Kay’s toes.  This is pure, uncut trash-camp, for good or for ill.  Before it reveals its trick, this is a reasonably fun subversive action western.  Certainly not Tarantino firing on all cylinders in the writing department (nor are he and Clooney when it comes to acting), but it’s got an enjoyably acerbic wit to it which makes for novel viewing.  Once the truth of the Titty Twister bar is revealed, the script starts to take stupid pills by the fistful.  Sure, once the limbs are flying and the goo runs thick the film may not feel the need to lean on dialogue to drive interest.  But it would be fun to take maybe a second pass at some of the jokes, which start to feel more and more repetitive.  

Rodriguez has a way of rendering ultraviolence affable and glib, though he inhabits that pocket well.  In dialing the gore well past the point of reason, he disarms the stakes of the film, making it more about spectacle and very simple character beats: it’s about family and money and survival.  Our vampires are a wildly mixed bag, and this is a damning exhibit of the case for practical effects, or at least for understanding the limitations of different media and technology for your budget and capabilities.  Ooey gooey rat monsters and crazy, imaginative prosthetics?  More of this please.  Strangely stilted CGI transformations?  Keep that in the Asylum vault.  Fortunately, they resisted the impulse to lean into that too heavily, remaining with the more tactile rubber suits during the final stages of this last stand.  Why would vampires surround and furnish their hangout with so much décor which could potentially be weaponized against them?  Who cares.  Just let the mayhem wash over you.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says ‘pussy’.

The brothers disagree on something.

““Glorious”“ CGI.

Someone uses more than two curses in sequence.

BIG DRINK

Richard sustains a hand injury.

Richard checks on his hand injury.

Richard is an expert wound-dresser of hand injuries.

[elminx]

Hi Elminx. I wanted to thank you for sharing some of your craft to me. It’s helped me refine spells, crafting personal associations with beloved ingredients from a far-away home *and* what I have. Your liquor magic fascinates me, even if I don’t drink much, practical and enjoyable magic with long shelf life is the best. Your dedication to being precise, to document helped me, especially with baneful spells. It’s helped me limit casualties, boost the efficiency of my spells and avoid backfires. I’ve seen actual progress and I can work with more ingredients than my raw hurt.

I like your approach both invest in the craft and be dedicated to it, and goo seek what we need and let nature give us what we need is a balance I’ve started to incorporate.

I can see it longtime and sustainably, while I was often on-and-off in my practice. There is a part of mystery and fate in what we do, but you’ve shown me, through your blogging, some ways to add a little magic on the daily, and to keep honing it, and to measure progression, and to use magic inwards to sustain me, before expanding outwards. Sharing is caring, so I’d like to thank you for caring for witches of all paths with your no nonsense yet benevolent approach.

This is simply an e-letter of gratitude, from me to you. Thank you.

Dear Sunglasses,

Thank you.

I...don't really have the words for how much this means to me. Except to say that I needed to read this today.

-Minx

[mugunghwc]

        name: gong hyun

        birthday: november 10th ( 32 years old ), scorpio

        height: 179 cm ( 5'10 ½ ft )

        spoken languages: korean & japanese

        likes: hard liquor, hostess bars, history, some bdsm practices, tidiness, obedience, control, darker clothing.

      dislikes: insubordination, lack of manners, gossip / spreading rumours.

       small summary: he was raised by his grandmother after his parents’ death when he was just a child. his grandfather was a veteran that he never met, while his grandmother lived day by day, doing various works to get by. he was taught some japanese without ever questioning how or with what purpose his grandmother knew the language. helped her with various jobs to make money, turning him into a responsible individual at an early age. he barely managed to get an education due to their financial situation, but his grandmother tried her best to provide a decent life for him. he was encouraged to do his military service as soon as he became of age, due to being unable to sustain the two of them financially, to which he agreed—losing all contact for nearly two years, only to return to a house being searched by men he had seen in the past as a teenager. loan sharks. she wasn’t dead for long & they were already looking for valuables to take ; not even giving him time to mourn her death. they made comments regarding his grandmother’s past, calling her a traitor to the nation, a joseon whore, among other things. he found out that she had been a comfort woman in her youth, taken by japanese soldiers. her body was marked underneath all those clothes. that experience was how she had picked on the language.

    his grandmother hadn’t died of natural causes like he believed at first, but the stress & stigma surrounding her past had driven her to the point of taking her own life as soon as he was out of the picture. he became resentful & vindictive. soon, rumours regarding her & his late parents began to spread throughout town. they called her all sorts of names, & claimed that the death of her daughter & son-in-law were her punishment for her sins. gong ended up killing all three of the men, & would’ve continued to kill those who spread the rumours, if he hadn’t been taken by the jingweon mafia. the murder of those loan sharks, attracted their attention. he was pursued to be punished, beaten into submission, but he held his head high. he showed potential from the very beginning due to his determination & mental strength. gong was taken in at the age of twenty. due to his upbringing, he already had the discipline that any subordinate should have, making him rank up rather quick among others like him. in a sense, he was saved from living a life of poverty & devoid of any social support ; making him extremely grateful for the opportunity he was given. a loyal dog to the jingweon mafia located in south korea.

[easternliquorsusa]

Eastern Liquors in the USA: A Rising Trend with Argentina Bio Dynamic Organic Red Wine

Eastern liquors are creating waves in the USA, celebrated for their rich heritage and distinct flavors. Among these offerings, Argentina Bio Dynamic Organic Red Wine stands out as an eco-conscious choice that combines sustainability with exceptional taste. Made using biodynamic farming practices, this wine is free from synthetic additives, showcasing the pure essence of Argentina's vineyards. Its deep, robust flavors and earthy undertones complement a variety of cuisines. As Americans explore global beverages, Argentina Bio Dynamic Organic Red Wine serves as a perfect example of how tradition and innovation meet to create a truly memorable drinking experience.

[thebuckblogimo]

Upon emptying my notes, some observations--and drivel--to share.

December 30, 2024

Sometimes, when thoughts pop into my head, I pull out my phone and record them in my Notes app. Today, I'm emptying it out with the intent of starting from scratch and doing a better job of organizing stuff in the future. Before I trash it all I'd like to share some things that I noted in the past several months. My apologies for any duplicates from previous posts that might have slipped in:

I have become something of a glass snob during the twilight of my beer drinking years. I love my genuine Guinness glasses from Ireland (used for Guinness only); nonic pint glasses for my IPAs, wheat beers and stouts; and pilsner glasses for such European favorites as Pilsner Urquell and Stella Artois. I also have six genuine Stroh's glasses from the long-gone Stroh Brewery Company in Detroit. (I think a Wisconsin brewery makes a fake version of the old "fire brewed" lager).

I love both Rolling Rock and Yuengling, a couple of my favorite mass produced beers, but neither one tastes as good out of a can as it does out of a bottle.

I wonder what percentage of my essays over the last dozen years have mentioned beer, liquor or wine. I would guess a pretty high number. What does this mean?

I don't approve of restaurants (usually diners or greasy spoons) that automatically put down a 16-oz glass of water in front of me. I don't care to drink that much water at one time. Many people don't drink any of it at all. What a waste.

I cannott remember the last time I changed a tire on the side of the road.

I love reading wine labels with their descriptions of reds and whites: "round in the mouth" ... "elegant intensity" ... "hints of blackberry and toasted notes of fresh spice." My favorite example of "winespeak" came from a somlier when he stated that the cab we were about to sample had a "buttery bottom end."

During my high school years, I didn't read many books other than the ones that were required reading in school. The handful I can recall reading by choice included Birdman of Alcatraz by Thomas E. Gaddis, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Carpetbaggers by Harold Robbins, Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, and To Kill a Mocking Bird by Harper Lee. Novels that I recall starting but not being able to sustain were Moby-Dick by Herman Melville, Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, and--no surprise--War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.

I recently saw the most arresting, most startling sign held by a homeless person at a busy intersection that I have ever seen. It said, "Fucking Starving."

I'd like to have had the level of intelligence and strategic thinking ability to be the CEO of a major corporation just to prove that you don't have to be a dick to run a major corporation. (This presupposes that I would not become one with the acquisition of power and wealth. Or, of course, that I am not one now.)

Practically every newspaper and magazine I read, I read online. But I really miss the ability to underline stuff on a page. (Sometimes I print hard copies of stories that I think are excellent so I can go back and reread the underlined parts.)

I recently purchased a bag of potato chips at Westborn Market in Dearborn, the size of bag that used to cost 25 cents when I was young. The price was $2.29. Just sayin'...

Since childhood, I have been absolutely loyal to certain brands--Morton Salt, Heinz Ketchup, Campbell Soup, etc. I don't eat fruit cocktail anymore, but if I did I would buy Del Monte, as my mother always did.

I recently approached the parking lot outside of my local YMCA after a workout and mistakenly walked up to two different black SUVs--a Toyota Highlander and then a Honda Pilot--before correctly identifying my black Subara Outback. Hmmmm...

I find that squeegeeing the shower glass, putting my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and turning off the front porch light are small irritants when I'm trying to get out of the house in the morning to seize the day.

Whether sitting on the porch in the evening, or grilling burgers in the backyard, or having friends over to our house, I almost always have a playlist of tunes going on my sound system. Oh, I enjoy my quiet time--listening to the singing of birds in the morning or the sound of Lake Michigan's waves in the distance--but for the most part, "I gotta have tunes."

Speaking of tunes, sometimes I wear earbuds and play up tempo music while doing cardio on a Precor machine at the gym. The other day I played some polkas by the late, great Lil' Wally. Oh, good golly, what a workout that turned out to be.

For several years my wife and I shared a trailer with her parents at an RV park in Fort Myers, Florida. I used to marvel at the fact that they never seemed to know what the date was. Now I'm the same way. I can tell you the month and year, but I'm rarely correct when asked for "today's date."

Just as it annoys me when waitresses call me honey, it irks me when men at liquor stores call me "boss." I don't know why. It just does.

I recorded the words "halfback, running back, fullback, I-back, scatback, flanker back, defensive back, corner back" in my Notes app...and finished there. I have no idea where I was going with that one.

IU basketball coach Bobby Knight once said, "Mental is to physical as four is to one." Seems to me that applies to more than just sports in the game of life.

I don't think I've ever watched a single movie sequel, unless you include the "Raiders" and "Batman" franchises.

I wonder when "I appreciate that" or "I appreciate it" evolved into "Appreciate you." Interesting how use of the language evolves over time.

Margie's, a store that serves ice cream and sells their own brand of candies in the Bucktown neighborhood of Chicago where one of my daughter's lives, has been in existence at the same location on Western Avenue for over 100 years. They serve milkshakes in two sizes--one that costs $6.50 and one that costs $7.95. During the mid '50s, Truan's, a similar type of store, opened about five blocks away from where I grew up. In those days they charged 30 cents for a shake. And 45 cents for a banana split. I can just hear my son-in-law now: "Okay, boomer."

I don't know how they come up with the names for all the drugs I see advertised on TV, but Sotyktu for plaque psoriasis takes the cake. Honorable mentions go to Vambysmo, Skyrizi, Litfo, Mounjaro, Opzelura and Abrysvo. Meanwhile, to my ear, Ozempic sounds like the last name of one of my long-lost relatives, and Wegovy sounds like the name of a duck-type, wild bird I used to see in Florida.

It frustrates me when I stand in front of an automatic paper towel machine in a bathroom, restaurant, gas station or gym--the kind that says "Place hand below"--and it winds up taking six or eight tries to get just one sheet to come out.

An old friend dating back to my kindergarten days shot me a note that said, "I always felt that the past tense of "read" should be "red." I have always felt the same.

It took reading two reviews and watching several TV promos about Martin Scorsese's film "Killers of the Flower Moon" for me to internalize the title. Things like that cause me to wonder how my brain works...or doesn't.

I have always loved this line from Gary U.S. Bonds' 1962 hit record "Twist Twist Senora": "I want her to jump up in the air, come down in slow motion."

I have never in my life encountered a dog by the name of Fido, Rover or Spot. I did once see a sign over the door of a dog house that read Phi Deaux.

For as long as I can recall, I have always called running shoes tennis shoes.

I have a feeling that I'm getting into too much stuff I've already posted. So, that's all, folks.

[theaenetworks]

Globally there have been attentions on the issue of mental health which has taken a deep toll on the wellbeing and wellness of African populace due to neglect. Mental health repercussion comes with a big price to pay, it affects social interactions among peers and often time reeled such person to find comfort in liquor which is another dangerous channel which posed great threat to mental health. While mental health can come in two limbs- natural mental infirmity and mental tiredness, the second limb will be the area of attention to address mental exhaustiveness and stress facing unending challenges in life.

It is an important focus to bring to the notice of African people, which has really taken a toll due to the neglect, it is practical and often rife to find an average African person when going through mental stress and tiredness result to uncontrollable drinking of alcohol to forget the situation which has put him in such state, making himself very vulnerable to be destroyed, while average African woman would prefer to live with trauma and sad experience which has tormented her over the years than opening to find solutions, this is the practical study of development of mental health in Africa and its neglect which is down to many factors.

Mental health is the least most discussed topic in African governmental policies there have been no proper awareness championed by the governments of various countries to educate the masses on the issue of mental health, it is an urgent attention in Africa. In the field of medicine Africa has low turnout on experts to treat mental health, psychiatrists and psychologists are needed in Africa, to create atmosphere for people to interact and talk about mental health without fear of unknown, it will further address relevant remedies in the cure of mental health.

For all round sustainability Africa needs to be at the forefront of championing of healthcare system, health sector is in moribund condition in Africa, this is very obvious to the extent that presidents of African countries seek medical care outside the continent, it is about saving lives and another things is to have right equipment to do that. This is one of the major sectors which African countries have neglected and the masses have also lost their faith in it, low quality service to life is rife in African hospitals and it has continued to be like that prioritizing mental health will prove significant improvements.

Everyone needs mental health care to help growth socially and mental approach to it, depression and anxiety over time has gotten the best of many people stretching them to the extent of not discovery who they are again. Revival and rehabilitation is possible with right campaign and awareness people will find better atmosphere opening up about their mental health challenges without being hunted and traumatized about it and trusting the process for healing to build back the losses of days of low moments.

https://anthonyemmanuel.com/issue-of-mental-health-a-big-neglect-in-africa/

#mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthinafrica #africa #africanculture

[corrugated-packaging-boxes]

Printed Luxury paper Board with Bottle Holder box

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[coolcrusadepenguin]

Liquor Manufacturing Company: Driving Excellence in the Beverage Industry

A liquor manufacturing company plays a pivotal role in crafting premium alcoholic beverages that cater to diverse consumer tastes. From spirits like whiskey, vodka, and rum to wines and craft beers, these companies combine traditional brewing techniques with modern innovation to deliver exceptional quality.

India’s liquor manufacturing industry has witnessed exponential growth due to rising demand for premium and niche products. Leading companies invest in cutting-edge technology, sustainable practices, and stringent quality controls to ensure superior products. They also comply with regulatory frameworks to maintain credibility and build trust among consumers.

Whether it’s large-scale production or bespoke distilleries, a liquor manufacturing company contributes significantly to the beverage market, offering endless possibilities for expansion and success in both domestic and international markets.

[tradehubdubai]

Confectionery Raw Materials: The Foundation of Sweet Creations

The confectionery industry thrives on the creativity and precision of its products, from luscious chocolates to delightful candies. Behind every sweet indulgence lies a selection of high-quality confectionery raw materials. These materials serve as the building blocks for crafting exceptional treats, ensuring consistency, flavor, and visual appeal. Let’s explore the essential ingredients and their critical roles in confectionery production.

Key Confectionery Raw Materials

Cocoa Products Cocoa is at the heart of many confectioneries, offering both flavor and structure. Cocoa beans, cocoa butter, cocoa powder, and cocoa liquor are indispensable ingredients for chocolates and baked goods. High-quality cocoa products provide the rich taste and texture that consumers associate with premium treats.

Sugar and Sweeteners Sugar is a cornerstone of confectionery, imparting sweetness and contributing to texture and shelf life. Alternative sweeteners, such as stevia or maltitol, cater to the demand for sugar-free or reduced-sugar options, broadening the appeal of confectionery products.

Dairy Products Milk powder, butter, and cream are used to create smooth textures and enhance flavors in products like milk chocolates, toffees, and caramels. These ingredients are crucial for achieving the creamy consistency that many confectionery items require.

Fats and Oils Specialty fats, including cocoa butter equivalents and vegetable oils, play a vital role in achieving the desired mouthfeel and stability in chocolates and other confections. These fats are carefully selected to align with production requirements, such as melting points and texture.

Flavorings and Additives Natural and artificial flavorings, such as vanilla, fruit extracts, and spices, bring depth and variety to confectionery products. Additives like emulsifiers and stabilizers ensure consistency, while food colorings enhance visual appeal.

Nuts, Fruits, and Inclusions Almonds, hazelnuts, dried fruits, and other inclusions add texture and flavor to confections. These ingredients cater to diverse consumer preferences and elevate the sensory experience of the final product.

The Role of High-Quality Raw Materials

The quality of confectionery raw materials directly impacts the taste, texture, and shelf life of the final product. Premium materials ensure that the confectionery meets industry standards and satisfies consumer expectations. Producers who prioritize quality are more likely to retain customer loyalty and succeed in competitive markets.

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Advancements in food technology are driving innovation in confectionery raw materials. Ingredients like plant-based dairy alternatives and sugar substitutes enable producers to cater to health-conscious and vegan consumers without compromising taste or quality.

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[southseas-7866]

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South Seas Distilleries and Breweries Pvt Ltd specializes in creating distinctive alcoholic beverages tailored to diverse tastes. With state-of-the-art facilities and a focus on innovation, the brand offers a wide array of spirits, crafted for quality and character. From finely distilled liquors to expertly brewed beverages, South Seas Distilleries and Breweries Pvt Ltd bring expertise and passion to every bottle. Their commitment to ethical practices, sustainability, and customer satisfaction sets them apart. Explore their portfolio to experience dedication to exceptional craftsmanship in every sip.  Visit Us- https://www.southseasdistilleries.com/ 

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

Oof, I struggled last night. I had my sleepover with MUC and ICD, and I have consistently dreaded group events with ICD for the past, god, like two years.. bc she always gets SO fucked up. Wilson asked if it's bc ICD doesn't get enough time away from her toddler, but ICD was like this pre-baby, we just had more sober time to balance it out, but now I hardly ever get to see her and she goes so fuckin hard.

It's been extra difficult for the past year bc I've had this hella secret with the MUC bullshit and ICD's gossiping+homophobia are too much for me to handle at once. But I miss her, and I love her when it's one on one and she's sober, so I keep trying but not communicating and ultimately dreading. It's a mess. And now that I'm not eating or spending or drinking or stealing, it was fucking excruciating picking her up for ¿¡yoga!!? and she was already pregaming even while still with her parents and kid. I wanted to run and leave or join her and get trashed. I considered joining her, and really wanted to, but I had known I'd want to and already promised myself - outside the context of temptation - that it wasn't actually something I truly want and I would thank myself for resisting.

So I resisted. But she kept drinking, and hitting her weed pen, and then she ordered herself a personal pizza from my favorite fucking pizza place, and then on the way back from yoga in the city she wanted to stop by a gas station and I almost started crying in the aisles at all the things I wanted, so so so weak and sad and frustrated by my cravings and fundamental inability to keep living the way I have been. I resisted I resisted I resisted but I was SO not present. I was quiet, white knuckling, writhing, even clawing myself a bit in the backseat trying to take the edge off.

I kept thinking about that book We Are The Luckiest, about how she had to treat her new sobriety like a pregnancy she was protecting, a new life she was nurturing, a lifestyle change with inarguable new boundaries. I tried to validate that I wasn't overreacting by struggling with being stone cold turkey sober from so many of my vices. She brought the remnants of an entire fucking case of extra hard cocktail cans and she wouldn't have noticed if I took one. MUC has a whole fucking liquor cabinet and historically hasn't blinked an eye when I open bottles and take swigs or pour myself a drink. I had options, but I knew it wouldn't help. I'd wake up feeling horrible for so many reasons and I'm building this new life on purpose. I want to sustain my progress on my app, see the scale and my body keep shifting, my budget tight and my spend-free streak maintained. And all that gets fucking wrecked when I drink, with the added danger of also being way more likely to flirt and fuck around with MUC and give her false hope. It's also so problematic when we're around ICD bc I LOVE teasing MUC in public in stolen moments where ICD isn't paying attention but MUC can't escalate it. It's fucked up.

I'm breaking so many patterns. I created a tracker for my fridge to remind myself that this budget shift is a choice I'm making, not a punishment of which I'm the powerless victim. It's actually a super fun, productive, and rewarding game that I'm good at and that is hella aligned with my values and goals. I'm excited to rewrite old scripts and habits that never felt good the next morning. I just need to see the progress like I can with my food and exercise journey, like I can with my plasma compensation balance.

I want to keep meditating on the JoAnna practices (it's been so grounding to remind myself to keep my speech true and generous, to only take what is offered to me). Today I meditated on the feeling of being so disconnected from ICD last night and I keep coming back to the open-armed, five pointed star stance of being steady, warm, present, delighted, loving, wise. I heard "honesty, honesty, honesty" and "I can come out" - integrate, speak up, but also rise up out of old patterns and routine dances of habit and relating. I can step up, come out, speak clearly at any time. I don't want to keep white knuckling and complaining.

[favouritefab-blog]

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