North American Adjucnt Lager
Excuses, excuses, And at the root of it all, self doubt.
Tab upon tab sit at my finger clicks.
“Research” pulled up. A road map of jettisoned tangents.
A nap. A nap will give my mind a pause, a relief, rest.
I recline for only 5 mins,
Okay 5 minutes more,
For a total of 10.
I get up. Put on my shoes. Go to my car.
I know I just want a cheap beer.
One that reminds me of bygone days,
When price mattered more than taste.
And I had to buy beer a 24oz can at a time. Unable to hold onto a 6 pack
For more than one night.
Now I horde beer,
Waiting years to drink them.
Step in the right direction?
Who’s to say?
Some would claim that shows willpower.
Some would say the sign of an addict
Is how well stocked are his/her reserves.
Now…where was I? Oh, yes.
Instead of following my true desire,
I sought out a location
that would have a decent artisanal beer selection.
To buy a single bottle or can of beer brewed in the crafty way.
Great breweries aplenty.
Only to be had in 6 pack quantities.
I went to the convenience store next door.
I went to a pharmacy across the street.
Finally I went to the old gas station with the soured gas tanks.
As I walked in,
“Is there a card minimum?”
“$5” she replied.
5 mins later, as I stood pondering in the back,
At the cooler doors,
She asked “Are you looking for something?”
“I can’t make up my mind” was all I replied.
I had checked the change in my car before I strode in.
Around $3.25 was there left in my mobile change receptacle bin.
Which meant I could have gone to my car.
Instead I went to my debit card and bought a Red Stripe as well.
I sat out on the deck.
Cracked open the 24oz can.
Untappd the event with
“Not sure why I thought this would help with my writer’s block.”
As my comment.
Moments after my first sip, I started typing this out on my phone.
I guess my instincts weren’t wrong,
With the help of this Montejo,
my writer’s block is gone.