Absinthe makes my heart grow fonder (and my eyes see trails)
I've had a pretty loyal following of Absinthe drinkers ever since I introduced the green fairy here in 2004, and that was before I started serving Lucid absinthe, which makes my old brand look like Jagermeister.
Me myself, I've been an avid fan of Absinthe ever since I first saw it in the music video for A Perfect drug back in 1997, but I didn't try it until a few years later in an underground, private absinthe club in LA. An avidly dark place, in a basement somewhere in Hollywood, lighted only by dim green bulbs and barely painted a picture of the classy, yet seedy, atmosphere.
My first experience was interesting to say the least, and that's about all I can say because I don't remember much else.
But either way, I was hooked. I can't imagine the thousands of dollars I spent having absinthe sent to me from Europe, before I discovered the not very well known loophole that allowed me to start serving it.
But to be honest, the previous brand was just OK. It technically had a similar chemical composition to the "real" stuff, but it simply wasn't potent enough after all the superior European that I consumed.
Now I have Lucid, which at first I was weary of. I didn't think it would compare, and boy was I wrong.
For those who haven't tried absinthe in general yet, I usually describe the effects as not quite a hallucination, at least in the visual sense, and after years of drinking I concluded that visual hallucinations were a myth.
Late one night about a month ago, my ex-girlfriend and I embarked on an absinthe journey. We each had about 4 in a period of a couple hours, and before we knew it it was 3am and she had to wake up for work in 6 hours. So I walk her outside and watch her walk to the newly-arrived taxi, and I'm confused for a second as I realize that she has a bright white, one foot aura extending from her body and following her as she walked.
Then I looked around and noticed that things seemed different - things were just not quite right.
Colors were brighter, shadows were darker and motion trails stuck to every car passing by. Everything was more extreme; cars were louder, music was more precise, and absinthe suddenly felt (and tasted) a lot more complex.
I haven't had an absinthe drink since then, and I'm a little afraid to because I don't want to drink it again, only to find that that experience won't repeat itself.
As I'm known to say, I guess time will tell.
Ciao
Me myself, I've been an avid fan of Absinthe ever since I first saw it in the music video for A Perfect drug back in 1997, but I didn't try it until a few years later in an underground, private absinthe club in LA. An avidly dark place, in a basement somewhere in Hollywood, lighted only by dim green bulbs and barely painted a picture of the classy, yet seedy, atmosphere.
My first experience was interesting to say the least, and that's about all I can say because I don't remember much else.
But either way, I was hooked. I can't imagine the thousands of dollars I spent having absinthe sent to me from Europe, before I discovered the not very well known loophole that allowed me to start serving it.
But to be honest, the previous brand was just OK. It technically had a similar chemical composition to the "real" stuff, but it simply wasn't potent enough after all the superior European that I consumed.
Now I have Lucid, which at first I was weary of. I didn't think it would compare, and boy was I wrong.
For those who haven't tried absinthe in general yet, I usually describe the effects as not quite a hallucination, at least in the visual sense, and after years of drinking I concluded that visual hallucinations were a myth.
Late one night about a month ago, my ex-girlfriend and I embarked on an absinthe journey. We each had about 4 in a period of a couple hours, and before we knew it it was 3am and she had to wake up for work in 6 hours. So I walk her outside and watch her walk to the newly-arrived taxi, and I'm confused for a second as I realize that she has a bright white, one foot aura extending from her body and following her as she walked.
Then I looked around and noticed that things seemed different - things were just not quite right.
Colors were brighter, shadows were darker and motion trails stuck to every car passing by. Everything was more extreme; cars were louder, music was more precise, and absinthe suddenly felt (and tasted) a lot more complex.
I haven't had an absinthe drink since then, and I'm a little afraid to because I don't want to drink it again, only to find that that experience won't repeat itself.
As I'm known to say, I guess time will tell.
Ciao
posted by Sebastian Awatramani at
6:29 PM
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