Alcohol.

Alcohol and I don't get along very well. We never have. As a child, alcohol was the cause of many strange nights, nights that I don't particularly care to remember. I don't like most drunk people, I'll put up with one or two drunks being themselves in my company but past that, it's an excessive overload of terrible and unfiltered personalities. Now don't get me wrong, it makes people more loose, more relaxed; transparent to a degree. I get to listen to someone's most primal inner monologue, how they process the world around them. It comes out as speech (usually shouted), it comes out as movement (often punches), it comes from their heart. Sometimes the stomach.

The beauty I see in Alcohol is the fact that someone up to their neck in the sauce will begin to divulge. Blurt things out they themselves don't want to agree to, but feel that way, speaking truths about themselves and others that would radically change ones perception of the speaker. Characteristically, these sorts of deliberations only occur in two moods: somber privacy and passionate fury. Somber privacy is when you're holding your friends limp head above the toilet as he pukes. The quiet pause between the dry heaves and the heavy breathing. Wiping his mouth, he turns to you and says brokenly "All I do is lie to people." Often in these moments the person says something either self deprecating or solemn altogether. Passionate fury is when someone is on top of the kitchen table with a coat hanger in hand, poised like Captain Ahab shouting from the top of their lungs "I DON'T KNOOOOOW YOU. YOU DON'T OWWWWWWN ME. YOU OWWWWEEEEE ME NOW. YEAH DUDE YOU OWE ME NOW. FOR BEING A LITTLE PUSSYFAGFUCK. STOP FUCKING MY SISTER. QUIT FUCKING HER 'CAUSE I WILL FUCK YOU IF YOU FUCK.

Disregarding those two nightmares, I have finally come to find a mixture that fits my pallet and tolerance, and the effect it has is actually quite nice.

Kaluha and Coffee.