Sean Brown is working very, very hard preparing his mind for the great American novel. I am not even sure that he is planning on writing it. More one of those things that I just see him doing. Honestly, in my mind it is a vicious race at breakneck speeds between he and the famed Will Weston to sit down at a typewriter and just take the world to school. Me? Well, consider me more of a guide than a destination. These guys are living the dream and soon will write about it.
Regardless, I wanted to show you all some of Sean’s firepower. He comments here sometimes, but upon reading my instruction on smashing up a perfect Cuba Libre, he wrote me this. And I thank him.
I applaud your salute to old school class and style. I am currently sitting in a sweltering bar with an industrial sized fan blowing directly into my face, the temp hovers between 94 and 96 wicked degrees, and an antique relic of a jukebox screeches nonsense into the empty dive. A 60 year old shirtless jellyfish of a man just wandered in and started passing out hugs to the other flies. A couple of tattooed hipsters just started in on the pinball like its their goddamn life’s own mission, and who knows? maybe it is. The heat makes us lethargic and crabby, cranky and foul tempered, wicked with thoughts of gang beating motorcycle cops just for fun and spite.
And then I read your ode to the Cuba Libre. A call towards class and classic style, and then I remembered. I am, after all, a true professional living the dream, and has to be hotter in San Juan than Portland anyway. I have a job to do, and no time for heat nor foul tempers. Thank you for that, Zack of Lost Angeles, for reminding me what’s important in life.
I love the descriptions in it. Muscles well flexed, Sean. Continue on down the line, old friend.