Here is a small part of a book I have been working on since college. Some parts are funny, at any rate it will entertain you:
Beer Seeds
Tecate lights have a silver label. In Mexico, they’re served exclusively in dark glass bottles with pry off tops. It’s summer time in San Luis. Condensation trickles down the neck of the bottle just as sweat makes its way down my own. Patio bars have no air conditioning, so it’s up to the beer to keep me cool. I wave at a waiter for one more round and stare off into the narrow streets while listening to my friends laugh from the other side of out leather-topped mesquite table. The mariachi band starts to play Hotel California.
Our waiter arrives with fresh brews. He pries off the tops as he distributes the refreshment and smiles as he receives his gratuity. I swipe for a bottle, cram a wedge of lime down its neck and tip a bit of salt into its mouth- to get the taste how I like it. A thumb placed on the opening and a quick tip upside down complete my process. Out of habit or some other intrinsic drive, I start to peel one of the silver label’s edges. The label releases from the bottle with ease as I peel it, having been loosened by the ice bath it surely soaked in for hours before I ordered it, giving it a heavenly chill. The label is removed, and through the red-brown glass I see the liquid. I set it down on the table and the Sonoran sunlight goes to work on it like round before. It beams through the bottle onto the table projecting a pattern of scattered light. Being buzzed, I stare at the pattern until something else catches my attention.
A solitary seed rises from the bottom of the bottle, riding some unseen force. It reaches a crest- some unseen boundary I cannot guess at- and slowly sinks back to the bottom. It rises again, sinks, stops halfway down, and begins to rise once more. The phenomenon repeats itself as I stare in inebriated stupor. I have seen the occurrence before in Corona, Dos Equis, Carta Blanca, Negra Modelo, and other Mexican friends, but this time I marvel at it. I question what force stops the seed from maintaining its altitude and I wonder at the force that causes the seed to rise after it has fallen as far as the bottom. These limits of the seed’s progress become significant in my mind as I stare at the dumb bottle. I become fascinated about the journey the seed takes. Sometimes the rise is miniscule before the seed drops. Sometimes, the seed seems to be suspended between several short climbs and descents. There must be some meaningful lesson I can pull from such an acute observation. Volumes are filled with people’s brilliant observations about lesser things than this-- Leaves of grass, a moth on a window sill. I search my mind for an anecdote about the ups and downs of life...nothing. Then again, it is only just a Mexican beer like the others I had before it, and I am quite drunk. Perhaps the lesson I should learn is to check my lime wedges for seeds.
