Hoegaarten Beer - End of Summer

Written 2010

Beer is better than good in Belgium.

Back in the 80s when traveling to Brussels I drank in a small working-class bar behind the Gallerie des Reines. No one of consequences frequented the back street establishment. Seating for ten. Draft beer. Le Mort Subite and Hoegaarten. One great for winter. The other superb for summer.

The tradition survived to this day.

Temperature in New York is over 80.

The warm side of the summer equinox. Hoegaarten. My landlord AP had returned from a dinner. Thre empty beer bottles rested on my writing table. The window overlooking a dark alley. He criticized my relocation of older writing onto present logs. I told him that they had been re-written. AP reads me a lot. THe architect knows the truth. Writing and Art is not a speed game. They require thought.

Hoegaarten prevents thought.

At least constructive thought, unless the thinker considered setting his house on fire constructive.

Not really, so it is good spirited drinking for the autumnal equinox.

The pagans called it Mabon, a harvest holiday seeking to thank Mother Earth. The fridge had more beer. AP, my landlord, and I drank two Hoegaarten. Each. The Brooklyn sky was clear of stars.

The future was clear.

More beer until Beermas.