A potent seagoing brew
As soft as the namesake, and PETA can’t complain about this
It’s got “Southern” right in the name, so you should buy it anyway
The Canadians sugar-coating it
Every year on New Year’s eve, I jot down a summary for my friends to read. And I’ll try and make it as meaningful but short as I can, since anybody up at this hour will be flatout drunk. As I plan too to be. At first, I don’t know what I could say about this year that I haven’t a hundred times before. I put in a hundred percent, very few ever seem to want to hit the ball when it enters their court. Those around me tell me I’m doing everything I can, but results speak for themselves. Every year I tell myself that the next year is the one that will start my life. And the year after that. And the year after that. Each one adds just that little bit more anxiety to the system. Knowing that while others my age are out there, moving into houses, buying new cars, living life the best they can. And my life has barely advanced further since I left school. Except for the world, apparently, growing dumber by the day. But as we’re told, this year will be the first of a new decade. It seems as though as soon as it set in that we live in an era that those in the future will refer to as the the Twenty-Tens, it’s over. In two-thousand-ten, I was still an unassuming young schoolboy whose world still revolved around TopGear and Need For Speed games, whose worst possible worries were still getting in trouble at school and mum and dad finding out about it. Blissfully ignorant of the harsh reality that lie beyond the school gate. I’d trade that for financial bankruptcy and terrorism anyday. But this year, this year was one of hope. That something little has been seen and grasped. Some miraculous shining glimmer of hope amongst the pitch black darkness of desperation and despair and the anguish of years of my life gone to waste. Something small, that has every chance of growing into something big. That piece by piece shows signs of progression. Malt Liquor Mitch is still my baby as I speak to you now, but this site is in it’s infancy. And the idea exists that another, even greater idea exists in an embryonic stage. Of my own business. To paraphrase what this year’s record breaking blockbuster said – If there’s even the smallest hope of a brighter future, it’s worth everything it’s worth it to take it. To stake everything on it. Money comes and goes. Hope comes by far too rarely to be let by. And thus; I’m willing to chase it for everything it’s worth. I’m going to put everything I can into it, even if it’s just so when I finally burn out, everyone can say I put everything I had into this. To pursue a reality where the present is not overshadowed by the achievements of years past. And the future is bright, and not loathed. To live life as it should be; Indulged, not endured. That life will improve and improve as time goes on, as it should. So yes, it is literally – my end game. Like every year, I assume that by this time next year I’ve finally progressed. But by this time next year, I will not rest until I have my own business running. Even if it means I’m still working out of my parent’s shed as I am now. I didn’t come this far, just to come this far. And everyone else reading this, going through arduousity (let’s hope I practice what I preach); Never give up.
Happy New Years. Cheers.