1. It started in November 2011, covering Williamsburg’s drink and food scenes, and more fitting, the faces and philosophies behind the scenes. A life of eating and indulging and sloshing through jobs behind bars, pouring drinks across the country has given me an inherent insight to this world. Speaking kitchen Spanish, trading beers for culinary short-cuts with the cooks and dealing with often hellish bar management, I’ve felt as at home buttering up VIP customers in the front of the house as rolling joints in the basement walk-in. Immersion and insight on fattening food and inebriating drink will be unleashed like the daily staples they are. 

      

     

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  4. Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school.
    — Albert Einstein
     

  5. wisconsin northwoods, september 2011

     


  6. flashback #1

    Pith, the moral fiber of a plant, conflict or commitment…the brutal act of severing the spinal cord of farm animals, slashing the lifeline of vegetation, beast or mankind.

    Vulnerability tucked away deep into the fleshy core of a breathing vehicle, shielded by the façade of protection, whether it’s leafy green, unprocessed leather or thin naked skin, pith is penetrable.  The cellular brains behind the waxy rind, the brittle bone or coarse hide of perseverance create the will of existence, or are crushed like an insect, that is what pith as a noun, a thing, is. 

    Then there is the action, to pith, the slaughtering of cattle by cruel method of slashing the rope of nerves that bind the vertebrae together, detaching the backbone of a futile life. The disconnect of the central artery of the nervous system, a death that undoubtedly leaves the body in a moment of spastic paralysis before the last frantic messages of distress can reach hoofed limbs. In a more flowery sense, to pith a plant is to remove the sticky inner tissue or sweet fruit.

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  7. Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.
    — Ernest Hemingway