Third Draught: An Introduction

 

In this new series, Oddball Editor Jason Wright experiments with writing while drinking three beers at an undisclosed location then publishing the barely-edited results for all to see. Hardly an experiment in lonely drinking, expect future columns to expand on this and invite otheres to participate.

 

This is the first of many third draughts

Today’s third draught comes with the Sam Adams winter ale and a panko breaded pork chop

This is the first of the three beers I will have tonight. technically it’s 20oz of beer so that might be more beer then a dongles draft so there you go.

What is a dongle, I may be crazy
To think that this will remain coherent as we go along. But this is it

Here comes my pork
Chop my wonderful wonderful pork chop. You ever see the key and peeled episode about the continental breakfast? That’s how I feel about this pork chop

My 22 ounce beer of Sam Winter is finished so I requested another beer. how about a Bass my good bar wench

and she brings me Apple Duce and all is right with the world.

The pork hopped is excellent. And so be the beer!

So I be the man sitting silent
In a frying pan
Listening to Wutang Clan
Ratings. Pork chops

Autoxorrect ow won’t correct Wutang
Oh shit It just did
Boy this apple sauce firs is excellent around this moody pork hop

a switch to bass
And everything is right with the world.
The Christmas music and the banter subsides
Like a wave of laughter
Inspired by the wobbly dibble
Dabble the table

These pork chops are from heaven themselves
Port a prince angels walking thorough dusty subways

Idea king
Drinking bass
Feels like today rosy eater
I have already tripped and stumbled
Dropped the sauce
Rose water
Herbal essentials of essence of Eastwood
This is my b-side
My second breakage
My brewhaha
It’s a world of wonderment
Listening to winter wonderland
And wondering when it’s time to hail a cab
Parked rosewood the buildings are on fire
My mind is in sincere
And insatiable
The rose colored glassed world
Is a bit superpower and super posed
My hands are feeling thumb on the draft
The glass boot of bass
The world in a. Glass
The whispers in water
The last things I hear before I put my headphones on
Are the cancer calls and the fire talks
My friend has steeple throat
She licked my beer
I am something of a animal
Heat and caged
I don’t really want to be bothered
I fall into absence of time
And my wife’s call reminds me
That is time to go
The world of wonder the auto correct
The wealth of information
I’m a single cell on an acid tongue
I’m a blundering fool
But you all want some
Some of this huh?
You want. A piece of me?
Ok I slab each poem a centering cut
A xenophobic worm
A whispering wind
Redundant and pensive
Positive and thorough
A good diet to eat with wonder
I listen to the 90s
Pre 911
I want to go to a bold waterfall
Back to the sense of wisdom
This elixir has me strung
And pessimistic
For the next few minutes
I belong in the chorus of a song
I wrote that in a poem once
Maybe twice
Maybe three times
Maybe only once.
I am not alone
I mean right now I am alone
But in general I’m not
I have a sense of worth
Within the world
The stabbing sense that I don’t matter
I cut out like the bones of the pork chop
I have a sudden wanting for someone to say hello to me

22ozs of Bass
Gone down the watering hole
And to end I have in my sights

A 16 oz rebel
IPA
What’s so rebel
About it?
Oh heavens drink
By lucifer a hand
The salt and pepper shakers are epic
Like king and toxic queen
I see my self in a Boston Marathon
Running free towards finish lines
I see myself staring at ice as Stanley comes
Home to me
And the great three charged like rain
the celtics lose and the crowd keeps
Counting me on their fingertips
Patrons of the bar are going home to insert one into another
Pieces of puzzles
I think.
The world does
Listen to the ghosts
And the martyrs
Only the ones to give up their hands in protest
Don’t shoot me I try and lean
On library benches
I try and find myself amongst them
Clenching the wires together
To make words
This rebel IPA
Is sticking to my insides
I look up
And see hobbling athletes putting their best foot forward
This assignment is pressing
The deadlines approach
Ghosts flood the most
The world sucks like toasters and bread
I want to
Get between her lips
Butter my bread
And jam my mind
Box my cauliflower ears
I barely see people at this point
That last IPA
It’s a hideous mistress
Sure she fucks quick and leaves you dry
Her perfume cascade hops
Granted I am only of a lesser god
By now I am affected
My thumbs seem to move fast
Towards the exit sign
What best for me would be a cigarette
And a giving tree
Wish the world away
The sudden droplets sting like honey
My my I love this life
This song is a miracle
Adam syncopate me
Find your words
Into each ear
War autocorrected is ear
Like the world has run out of gas
And more people
Talk about war then ear
War of self
Between frontal lobes
The restaurant is very quiet
Everyone has left I’m all
Alone
My beer is Alamo
And I am Indian
Adam keep singing
I feel like I am coming clear
To the edge of good night and good morning
Good thing I had that pork chop
Because I wouldn’t be
Here
I’d be alone
Starving
Eating bread
Drinking
My wife is my life
And outside
To all a good night
Google yourself
And make a nightlight out of life
Guide me home

 

Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His Jagged Thoughts column appears weekly.

 

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