I love whiskey and must digress from my current approach. The term whiskey always brings this Theodore Roethke’s “My Papa’s Waltz” to mind – and it still confuses me after al these years:
My Papa’s Waltz
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
His skin drooped slowly from his face and his wrinkles were as deep as a bulldog’s. He slowly brought the dirty cup up to his crusty lips. Half of the liquid spilled on to the table and the other half crawled down his throat, a burning, cooling sensation like that of dry ice.
No again! – as the bottle cap flew in the fire i settled down to an evening of pleasant oblivion when the fire suddnly roared setting light to the sticks stacked about it — och lets live said the old man eyes gleaming in the flames– aye aye fergus I shouted legging it from the room – if this is living I think I’ll pass – your funeral he came back with a laugh
Oh, the taste of that whiskey to his lips! It was like a warm breeze on a summer night, the curse of a thousand dying voices. They only wanted him to drink more, to feel less, to consume everything, and destroy all hope. That was the terror. Those were the monsters that still lurk in my head.
The whiskey bottle sat on the counter top and Jensen just stood and looked at it for a whole 5 minutes. He licked his parched lips a few times, glanced around the room and then took a few steps forward. Then stopped. Then a few more. Before he knew it he was holding the bottle and uncorking it. With a soft waxy plop, the cork came out and he tipped it back and took several long pulls. And then he burped.
harmful to the health…a fashion statement. not suitable for warm climate. frowned upon. i dont like the smell of whiskey. its quite costly too. takes one to the road of ruin if consumed in large quantities.
whiskey is a strong alcoholic drink, one of the most popular being jack daniels, established in the 1800s it is usually a clear brown colour, and consumed in small amounts as it has large quantities of alcohol compared to other drinks such as wine or beer.
TThis is an alcoholic drink that apparently burns your mouth, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had it. I’ve never drunk in my life. Or I mean, not alcohol. I used to think “drinking” applied to all liquids when i was a kid, and as you can imagine, it caused quite a few problems.
I really do like Whiskey. It tastes good, if a bit burn-y, and gets you comfortably drunk. It’s also kind of expensive, so I can feel classy as hell when I drink it. Nothing better than swilling down a few fingers of the good stuff when your plebeian friends are sculling shitty beers.
it’s an alcoholic beverage. a strong alcoholic beverage. one of my friends drinks it, or used to drink it, fairly often. he shouldn’t be drinking alcohol in the first place since it interferes with his medication. when i decide to start drinking, i doubt i’ll partake in whiskey. it doesn’t seem appetizing. it’s a brownish golden color and is a common drink used in entertainment that heavy drinkers tend to gravitate toward. usually only the strongest drinkers drink it.
i love whiskey. it is delicious. its made either from corn or fruits, and aged in wooden casks. sometimes, i prefer southern comfort, or jack daniels. i dislike scotch whiskey.
bourbon and whiskey on your breath, cheeks as red as a robin’s chest, where do we go when there’s nothing left? that map you’ve got knows well, that map you’ve got will tell.
whiskey lullaby makes me cry. I love that song. whiskey reminds me of my grandpa even though he used to drink tequila. I like saying that word….whiskey…
Some times I like to drink whiskey. Most times I don’t because it tears at my insides like bleach on the insides of a suicidal bitch. Yeps. And sometimes I drink vodka, but that sucks. So sometimes I just drink milk. :T
A sneaking snarling beast has been tracking me all morning. When I awoke I thought I caught a hint of a scent in the eastern breeze, but my senses have a tendency to over-exaggerate themselves when I’m in the wild. Now there is no question, I have heard three distinct noises above the natural fauna. I have walked right into it’s trap and now there is no escaping.
drunken bums sitting by the side of the road, smelling of this. whiskey. immoral. thats what i think of when i hear this word. dirty, wife beating men drinking from a jack daniels bottle and passing out with it in their hand later on, too. disgusting.
the drink ran down my lips. burning the bleeding cracked things. fire flew from my finger tips. unknowing and obscene. frost covered the windows and frost covered the glass. fright seeping in through frigid openings and last.
there is something about the taste of whiskey that just drives me crazy,,, how the bitterness courses your throat and really holds your heart for a quick milli-second… then it’s all gone… it hugs the ice a bit more preparing for its second launch into its comforting home. My beautiful mouth… umm the taste of whiskey how it just gives your upper lip that slightburn when you inhale it… how it still ingers on your skin after you’ve drank it.
It was undeniable, the taste in my mouth was evidence from the night before. Clearly I had drank too much whiskey and was about to experience a morning that I would probably rather forget.
I’ve never met a man who could down so much whiskey. He was a cowboy looking type; scraggly beard and a constant sweat on his brow. He was tough man with hands so strong and a heart so big.
a drink that can make you drunk. ive never tried it. it seems hardcore liquor that only business men drink. why would i wanna drink it? iunno maybe because of peer pressure? yeah. is sixty seconds over? maybe. whiskey. it’s also like whiskers. like a cat.
he used to give her whiskey , half a shot glass topped up with orange squash, a concession to her seven years of age, he said she needed to develop a strong head for drink and also learn how to play cards, she tried very hard to do both but never managed, she could only concentrate on cards until she learned the rules of the game then her mind wandered and just being in the same room as alcohol made her drunk, so she soon realized she didn’t have to go through all the inconveniences of actually drinking it, never did, she could get tipsy by being in the company of others who were and still drive home
In the jar, dripping down the glass tube into my throat, bulging in my stomach and burning out the back of my eyes. I’ve thrown myself into the waves for another night, I’ll be gone and stranded in the wilderness. When you see me again, don’t even ask about the red eyes. I need a cigarette. All I love is whiskey, whiskey you whiskey me… Drink a drop of whiskey and let it all fall down, drink a drop and take a shot and sip it on the rocks. Love a life strong, brown and abrasive.
In the jar, dripping down the class tube into my throat, bulging in my stomach and burning out the back of my eyes. I’ve thrown myself into the waves for another night, I’ll be gone and stranded in the wilderness. When you see me again, don’t even ask about the red eyes. I need a cigarette. All I love is whiskey, whiskey you whiskey me…
Whiskey is the colour of autumn, of cold, and yet it warms as it slides down his throat in the empty bar. He sighs, the last of it sliding away, and he wishes he had more, wishes he hadn’t brought his car tonight because tonight of all nights, he needed the whiskey – no, he craved it.
the probability of the two of them ever speaking a word to each other, let alone getting alone, all changed once he noticed that she was the only girl in the whole room eyeing the bottle of jack daniels that he’d been sipping on all night long, his poison of choice.
I think that whiskey is part of the problem that I have with women.
Women and whiskey. I never should have started drinking the brown stuff.
I know that that is when I started becoming an alcoholic.
Because she was there, on my mind.
is icky… too much and too much.eh this fun i’ll just write about this being fun but then that means i didnt follow the directions about writing about the one word that would follow once i clicked go .. eh o well.. u gotta live and let be i guess? right?? umm has it been 60 words yet?
The smell of whiskey and redwood trees always sparked an image of childhood. Wading in the creek and swimming to the sandy side came back in flashes that he could hardly obtain. There was no doubt in his mind that things had changed….It just scared him. As he put down the last of the whiskey and wiped a tear from his eye he realized that it might be time to do the same.
It’s hard here where people have their own little solar systems of needs. I need a glass of whiskey with some dilution, so I can explain myself better to them. May I come visit you after? I swear I won’t be a bother. I understand if you don’t want me there. It’s the whiskey, isn’t it? You needn’t do me a favor, only if you really want me to. (and I say to myself, there our solar systems collided)
And so they sat down.
After many weeks of being strangers, they grew again, together.
And as they started talking, well actually no, as HE started talking.Tears streamed down her face. He understood her, the way she was, her messed up self, he understood what nobody had until now. That freaked her out, ergo the tears.
Thats when the adults noticed. they had been next to each other for over two hours now, One cigarrette at a time, taking turns to adquiring the knowledge lost all those months ago by discussing.
They realized the couple needed a drink, fast. And so they offered what they had, the last glass of their bottle of Whiskey, for the two young adults, trying to reconnect.
the most awesome drink one can have to put those blues away…specially with friends. God created this to make us enjoy !! But too much can make you kill the next morning. So the drink in the right quantity is always the way to go.
whiskey is an alcohol that older men tend to drink. when i think of whiskey i think of an older gentleman with a beard pulling it out of his desk and pouring some in celebration of a business deal that had just gone through. it is very strong tasting and burns the throat. i think the only reason older people like it is that their taste buds have become desensitized over the years, and they now they prefer really strong thing they can actually taste.
it is the warmest thing in my life. it is the only thing I can enjoy by itself, on ice or mixed with other drinks. It has never left me for dead. I will never get sick of it. Friends come and go but whiskey moments are forever. I remember the song I wrote called whiskey girl. I was happy. Jack Daniels at advice bar with sajangangnim
Whiskey again? I did one of these already. Fine, then. I’ll do another one.
Have you ever noticed that it’s the well-mannered and yet horribly evil villain in a film that is the one that always drinks whiskey? It’s puzzling. Why not the hero? Almost as if they’re suggesting that either the hero is too good for alcohol, or not good enough.
I love whiskey and must digress from my current approach. The term whiskey always brings this Theodore Roethke’s “My Papa’s Waltz” to mind – and it still confuses me after al these years:
My Papa’s Waltz
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
His skin drooped slowly from his face and his wrinkles were as deep as a bulldog’s. He slowly brought the dirty cup up to his crusty lips. Half of the liquid spilled on to the table and the other half crawled down his throat, a burning, cooling sensation like that of dry ice.
No again! – as the bottle cap flew in the fire i settled down to an evening of pleasant oblivion when the fire suddnly roared setting light to the sticks stacked about it — och lets live said the old man eyes gleaming in the flames– aye aye fergus I shouted legging it from the room – if this is living I think I’ll pass – your funeral he came back with a laugh
Oh, the taste of that whiskey to his lips! It was like a warm breeze on a summer night, the curse of a thousand dying voices. They only wanted him to drink more, to feel less, to consume everything, and destroy all hope. That was the terror. Those were the monsters that still lurk in my head.
The whiskey bottle sat on the counter top and Jensen just stood and looked at it for a whole 5 minutes. He licked his parched lips a few times, glanced around the room and then took a few steps forward. Then stopped. Then a few more. Before he knew it he was holding the bottle and uncorking it. With a soft waxy plop, the cork came out and he tipped it back and took several long pulls. And then he burped.
harmful to the health…a fashion statement. not suitable for warm climate. frowned upon. i dont like the smell of whiskey. its quite costly too. takes one to the road of ruin if consumed in large quantities.
whiskey is a strong alcoholic drink, one of the most popular being jack daniels, established in the 1800s it is usually a clear brown colour, and consumed in small amounts as it has large quantities of alcohol compared to other drinks such as wine or beer.
TThis is an alcoholic drink that apparently burns your mouth, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had it. I’ve never drunk in my life. Or I mean, not alcohol. I used to think “drinking” applied to all liquids when i was a kid, and as you can imagine, it caused quite a few problems.
I really do like Whiskey. It tastes good, if a bit burn-y, and gets you comfortably drunk. It’s also kind of expensive, so I can feel classy as hell when I drink it. Nothing better than swilling down a few fingers of the good stuff when your plebeian friends are sculling shitty beers.
it’s an alcoholic beverage. a strong alcoholic beverage. one of my friends drinks it, or used to drink it, fairly often. he shouldn’t be drinking alcohol in the first place since it interferes with his medication. when i decide to start drinking, i doubt i’ll partake in whiskey. it doesn’t seem appetizing. it’s a brownish golden color and is a common drink used in entertainment that heavy drinkers tend to gravitate toward. usually only the strongest drinkers drink it.
i love whiskey. it is delicious. its made either from corn or fruits, and aged in wooden casks. sometimes, i prefer southern comfort, or jack daniels. i dislike scotch whiskey.
bourbon and whiskey on your breath, cheeks as red as a robin’s chest, where do we go when there’s nothing left? that map you’ve got knows well, that map you’ve got will tell.
whiskey lullaby makes me cry. I love that song. whiskey reminds me of my grandpa even though he used to drink tequila. I like saying that word….whiskey…
Some times I like to drink whiskey. Most times I don’t because it tears at my insides like bleach on the insides of a suicidal bitch. Yeps. And sometimes I drink vodka, but that sucks. So sometimes I just drink milk. :T
failure in a bottle. stuck with the empty space we live in.
a loneliness we try to drink away. addiction.
helplessness.
A sneaking snarling beast has been tracking me all morning. When I awoke I thought I caught a hint of a scent in the eastern breeze, but my senses have a tendency to over-exaggerate themselves when I’m in the wild. Now there is no question, I have heard three distinct noises above the natural fauna. I have walked right into it’s trap and now there is no escaping.
drunken bums sitting by the side of the road, smelling of this. whiskey. immoral. thats what i think of when i hear this word. dirty, wife beating men drinking from a jack daniels bottle and passing out with it in their hand later on, too. disgusting.
the drink ran down my lips. burning the bleeding cracked things. fire flew from my finger tips. unknowing and obscene. frost covered the windows and frost covered the glass. fright seeping in through frigid openings and last.
there is something about the taste of whiskey that just drives me crazy,,, how the bitterness courses your throat and really holds your heart for a quick milli-second… then it’s all gone… it hugs the ice a bit more preparing for its second launch into its comforting home. My beautiful mouth… umm the taste of whiskey how it just gives your upper lip that slightburn when you inhale it… how it still ingers on your skin after you’ve drank it.
It was undeniable, the taste in my mouth was evidence from the night before. Clearly I had drank too much whiskey and was about to experience a morning that I would probably rather forget.
Key to unlock mindlessness :) … royal drink in royal parties. whiskey makes your whispers loud :P
I’ve never met a man who could down so much whiskey. He was a cowboy looking type; scraggly beard and a constant sweat on his brow. He was tough man with hands so strong and a heart so big.
a drink that can make you drunk. ive never tried it. it seems hardcore liquor that only business men drink. why would i wanna drink it? iunno maybe because of peer pressure? yeah. is sixty seconds over? maybe. whiskey. it’s also like whiskers. like a cat.
he used to give her whiskey , half a shot glass topped up with orange squash, a concession to her seven years of age, he said she needed to develop a strong head for drink and also learn how to play cards, she tried very hard to do both but never managed, she could only concentrate on cards until she learned the rules of the game then her mind wandered and just being in the same room as alcohol made her drunk, so she soon realized she didn’t have to go through all the inconveniences of actually drinking it, never did, she could get tipsy by being in the company of others who were and still drive home
In the jar, dripping down the glass tube into my throat, bulging in my stomach and burning out the back of my eyes. I’ve thrown myself into the waves for another night, I’ll be gone and stranded in the wilderness. When you see me again, don’t even ask about the red eyes. I need a cigarette. All I love is whiskey, whiskey you whiskey me… Drink a drop of whiskey and let it all fall down, drink a drop and take a shot and sip it on the rocks. Love a life strong, brown and abrasive.
In the jar, dripping down the class tube into my throat, bulging in my stomach and burning out the back of my eyes. I’ve thrown myself into the waves for another night, I’ll be gone and stranded in the wilderness. When you see me again, don’t even ask about the red eyes. I need a cigarette. All I love is whiskey, whiskey you whiskey me…
Whiskey is the colour of autumn, of cold, and yet it warms as it slides down his throat in the empty bar. He sighs, the last of it sliding away, and he wishes he had more, wishes he hadn’t brought his car tonight because tonight of all nights, he needed the whiskey – no, he craved it.
the probability of the two of them ever speaking a word to each other, let alone getting alone, all changed once he noticed that she was the only girl in the whole room eyeing the bottle of jack daniels that he’d been sipping on all night long, his poison of choice.
whiskey in a bottle churning burning at full throttle
claping gasping at the tunes wottle
fooling gooling at the town models
I think that whiskey is part of the problem that I have with women.
Women and whiskey. I never should have started drinking the brown stuff.
I know that that is when I started becoming an alcoholic.
Because she was there, on my mind.
is icky… too much and too much.eh this fun i’ll just write about this being fun but then that means i didnt follow the directions about writing about the one word that would follow once i clicked go .. eh o well.. u gotta live and let be i guess? right?? umm has it been 60 words yet?
The smell of whiskey and redwood trees always sparked an image of childhood. Wading in the creek and swimming to the sandy side came back in flashes that he could hardly obtain. There was no doubt in his mind that things had changed….It just scared him. As he put down the last of the whiskey and wiped a tear from his eye he realized that it might be time to do the same.
It’s hard here where people have their own little solar systems of needs. I need a glass of whiskey with some dilution, so I can explain myself better to them. May I come visit you after? I swear I won’t be a bother. I understand if you don’t want me there. It’s the whiskey, isn’t it? You needn’t do me a favor, only if you really want me to. (and I say to myself, there our solar systems collided)
The sharp taste that butts the toungue. Stylish gleaming eyes as confidence rises.
And so they sat down.
After many weeks of being strangers, they grew again, together.
And as they started talking, well actually no, as HE started talking.Tears streamed down her face. He understood her, the way she was, her messed up self, he understood what nobody had until now. That freaked her out, ergo the tears.
Thats when the adults noticed. they had been next to each other for over two hours now, One cigarrette at a time, taking turns to adquiring the knowledge lost all those months ago by discussing.
They realized the couple needed a drink, fast. And so they offered what they had, the last glass of their bottle of Whiskey, for the two young adults, trying to reconnect.
the most awesome drink one can have to put those blues away…specially with friends. God created this to make us enjoy !! But too much can make you kill the next morning. So the drink in the right quantity is always the way to go.
my safe word will be whiskey. It tastes good and goes down not so good. The salty liquid embodies a narcissistic frenzy of taste and bad decisions.
whiskey is an alcohol that older men tend to drink. when i think of whiskey i think of an older gentleman with a beard pulling it out of his desk and pouring some in celebration of a business deal that had just gone through. it is very strong tasting and burns the throat. i think the only reason older people like it is that their taste buds have become desensitized over the years, and they now they prefer really strong thing they can actually taste.
it is the warmest thing in my life. it is the only thing I can enjoy by itself, on ice or mixed with other drinks. It has never left me for dead. I will never get sick of it. Friends come and go but whiskey moments are forever. I remember the song I wrote called whiskey girl. I was happy. Jack Daniels at advice bar with sajangangnim
Whiskey again? I did one of these already. Fine, then. I’ll do another one.
Have you ever noticed that it’s the well-mannered and yet horribly evil villain in a film that is the one that always drinks whiskey? It’s puzzling. Why not the hero? Almost as if they’re suggesting that either the hero is too good for alcohol, or not good enough.