Oh to be an efficient artist, and not spend an inordinate amount of hours on crafting one single drink or one single post. Time feels both plotted in slippery motion amidst a whir of fleeting notions as well as staid, resistant, singed on the edges with outdated ideas. I remember lying on a bamboo mat without air conditioning listening to the buzz of small flies. She protests the plugged in fan as it makes her too cold whereas I cannot regulate my losses without it. I want to call upon a chamomile compromise in efforts to fight misery and sleeplessness. But really, I just wanted the fan on.
Do you know why it is meaningful to be able to cook for someone? Similarly, it’s how I feel about making a drink for someone. We put our best selves and efforts forward when we craft with another person in mind. I am not entirely sure why that is. Perhaps it has something to do with wanting others to feel happy or more directly, to not feel worthless. I don’t know about you but during this pants-less, contact lens-less, laundry-less enabled self-quarantine, cooking a special meal for myself on the daily or even weekly has not become a thing. I see a lot of bread baking but I imagine these folks are not cooking just for one. Bars have been shut down for three and a half months now. Home bartending is certainly a lot more sensible. Buying a craft recipe whether for yourself or for another, I think, taps back into our collective memory of being together, of making a special effort to imbibe socially rather than just drink. Eating and drinking keeps us living, but preparing food and crafting cocktails keeps us remembering how to live and be together. Happy hours and celebrated occasions have gone virtual for the time being, and maybe will stay that way. But no matter how the flow of time seems to slip in and out of itself or how many tiny flies and microscopic airborne viruses want to keep singing and dancing until the cows come home, we still need people.
