This was a busy month; fun and challenging to the point where I almost felt a difficulty in writing this post.
I was chairman for the Bar Golf Association Midtown Championship Cup this month. We played nine holes in Midtown--a difficult nine holes, nine holes that had to be strategically played, nine holes that not all could live through to tell the tale of conquest. I was quite pleased. Somethings I learned that should be shared: The Daiquiri Factory LCC is not to be underestimated... Ever. Mezcal taste terrible (like smokey butthole, or something... ) and is a general travesty upon your palette. Vortex Bar and Grill is over priced to def, with very poor service. I discovered Wild Heaven and Pawel Kwak beer this month; both of which are exceptional. Atlanta's own Red Brick should be avoided at all cost, well at least their blond; Left Hand Milk Stout on Nitro draft is as close to heaven as you can get. Moving on...
I bought four books this month: The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes, The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright, The Folded World by Catherynne Valente and Breakable You by Brian Morton. Never heard of the later but I'm reading it for a joint reviewing 'thing-a-mig-awesome-jig' I'll share soon. I've talk about Barnes already, and if you just want the short version: read it; it's great. The Folded World is the book I was looking forward to this year more than any other. I have no doubt that it won't disappoint; I hope to tell you about next month in great detail.
I read six books this month. Yeah, six; I'm surprised too: Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow; Memories of my Melancholy Whores and Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, This is where I leave You by Jonathan Tropper, Mother Aegypt and Other Stories by Kage Baker, and The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes. I'm glad I don't have to pick a favorite book because I would give myself fits this November.
Concerning Ragtime, a book I didn't leave commentary for, but allow me to share my brief encapsulated reading experience of this novel. I usually read books in my apartment: sitting on my couch, legs propped up in the recliner, crossed at the ankle, a glass of water/whiskey/rum/beer/whatever at my side. This is how I read Ragtime. Around the third word or so of the novel, Hollywood rigged explosives to my front door and blew it off the hinges with the power of 'Amazing.' Not yet being satisfied, Hollywood then moved to throw a deluxe size Hefty bag, over-stuffed with 'Awesome' bricks each weighing thirty pounds at me while I sat on the couch and read the book. This process continued to happen until I finished reading: that is to say; this was the most visceral and intense book I've read in a very long time, it's lost none of it's power since publication, and if it's not considered a classic, then those who determine such things are severely lacking in judgement and need to be replaced.
From a distance December seems extraordinarily busy; this is not a bad thing. I'd rather report after the fact than speculate as to what will happen before; tune in for the following 'Month in Review.'
I'll state no plans for the future as doing so seemed to do me well in November.