How I Lost My Soul, or A Fine Absinthe Adventure

Hello, friends!

The cocktail in question.

Sorry to double dip with posts, I was feeling inspired. I have made myself a cocktail of rhubarb simple syrup that I made last night, gin, and some grape juice that we had laying around. Every time I drink I feel the opposite of how I feel with caffeine, like the world is moving 3 times slower instead of three times faster. One such example of this crazy slowdown feeling was the time I had absinthe.

Absinthe was illegal for nearly 100 years due to the fact that it was believed to have some bad things in it. It became legal again in the States in 2007, but I am forbidden from ever drinking it again. Let me tell you why.

My husband and I were in the liquor store one time heading back from a sushi date and we came across some Absente absinthe. My husband was drawn to it because the packaging had Vincent Van Gogh’s face on it, I was drawn to it because I had heard it tasted good.

Absente Absinthe, the very bottle that caused this mess.

It did taste good, like black licorice. I got around to trying it after trying Rosé wine and one of those tiny bottles of Fireball whiskey (which has been proven to have some weird effects when given to me by itself, let alone with absinthe). It was very strong, but soon it got worse.

No, I didn’t get sick, no, I didn’t black out. Yes, I did start sobbing because of something that made perfect logical sense at the time. I had lost my soul.

In reality, I didn’t lose my soul. For some reason I became very concerned with the fact that I didn’t feel spiritual at that time and feared that the alcohol had robbed me of it permanently. Translated, I had lost my soul and couldn’t find it. So my precious husband had to hold me as I screamed and cried about the state of my immortal soul. What’s funnier is that I hadn’t given a single care about the state of my immortal soul for several months before that night, going on a year. I don’t often worry about the afterlife, but this greatly concerned me that night. I think what happened was that I made an attempt to access my spiritual side as it is most often amplified when I consume caffeine and I must have thought that alcohol would do the same thing. It didn’t, and it was all I cared about at the time. It seemed like the most important thing in the world.

I would later have absinthe a second time by itself and that time I did not lose my soul. I started crying about one of those orange wind socks that I had passed leaving my cardiology appointment the day I had absinthe the first time. My husband reportedly had to spend three hours talking me down from that one.

Moral of the story, friends: Never let me have absinthe. I don’t care if someone is threatening you with harm of any kind. Do Not Do It.

Love,

Mago

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