I love tequila. Good tequila. I have consumed a lot of good tequila, and a fair bit of bad tequila (until I got a real job). Words seldom fail me, but I can't say it any better than Tom Robbins did in "Still Life With Woodpecker":
“Now tequila may be the favoured beverage of outlaws but that doesn't mean it gives them preferential treatment. In fact, tequila probably has betrayed as many outlaws as has the central nervous system and dissatisfied wives. Tequila, scorpion honey, harsh dew of the doglands, essence of Aztec, crema de cacti; tequila, oily and thermal like the sun in solution; tequila, liquid geometry of passion; Tequila, the buzzard god who copulates in midair with the ascending souls of dying virgins; tequila, firebug in the house of good taste; O tequila, savage water of sorcery, what confusion and mischief your sly, rebellious drops do generate!”
Sunday, November 25, 2007
like the sun in solution...
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