ode to beer

I have a glass in my hands that fills me with joy. Blonde and with a gray head, it seems that she is looking at me. The bubbles give it life and draw smiles to give me back mine. The drops that fall slowly condensed by the cold will never be of sadness, they are of laughter and joy. I have that conversation without words, that exchange of glances, 10 times a day —if not more— when the summer allows me more horizontality. The soda that it supposes running through me is the best anesthesia for pain or torment. And it's not just a good remedy, it's preventative medicine. The effective pleasure that is born from your gullet connects almost immediately with your thinking brain. And it directs it towards the good and minimizes the bad. And it makes you forget what you were worrying about a while ago.

A beer in hand covering a piece of the sea is an incomparable luxury. It is the best relationship between pleasures and price. The reconversion of the grain, fermentation in between, in hydration and party condenses for me the history of all our knowledge. After millions of years searching for rotten fruit at the bases of trees to get a sense of a moldable reality, those vicious hominids stumbled upon agriculture..

With excess stock they had to prove something. Water, yeast and time were going to improve their lives. The accidental mixture of hops gave consistency to the invention. The gatherings began and wisdom began to be something shared. Around a beer we have been fixing the world since the world is ours. Because the meaning of eating has always been to do it in a group.

A cold beer can put up with any topic. He unravels conflicts, he looks for meeting points, he always takes you to a good place. It is true that it has a limit: it is not necessary to give drink to the most foolish. Alcohol brings out everything we carry inside. And, if there is anger, take out anger; if there is violence, it takes nerves. If there is sadness, it brings out tears. I know because I've been through it, I've been 100 times foolish and 100 times badly drunk. But even in that it is good. Better than leaving it inside, and that it continues to weigh you down, it's good to get it out, even if it's vomiting.

When you have joy, happiness or contentment, you always get the laughter that provides the energy for you to continue living. A laughing engine is actually what we are, although we don't know it yet. We are always resisting the weakness of a laugh. I don't know when the story changed, perhaps when we came down from the trees, but even today we pay for it with that of living seriously. That is why those moments of rest where alcohol reconnects our angry neurons are so valuable. Life makes you more graceful with a few cool beers. When there is no room for one more, there is no doubt.

A giant beer is an indispensable good around a beach bar. What makes paradise to the sand and the noises, to the obese landscape, to the bad karma of the waiter, is that; shimmering, liquid gold in an icy bowl. His arrival mesmerizes me. It values the talent and logistical precision that are necessary to have so that the served snack reaches me and hundreds of others with a stretch of the arm. It is to support the glass on the limp of the table and I am stunned. I could count the bubbles, I would always take a photo of it, I would get on my knees thanking the gifts, I would leave it pristine, but I ended up drinking it to repeat the rite in less than 15 minutes.

With his bitter he beats mine. Your cold my coldness. His grades are to my liking, I don't need more. It has made me much more flexible, understanding and willing, I might say inclusive. I don't care if it comes in fifth, third, pint or liter. I always prefer blondes and I don't reject mulattas. The black, more colorful, conquered my youth. Now I can't with her, although sometimes I try. Being a little cocky, I suffer big triggers, my liver is no longer the same as it was before. I like to taste the Belgian ones, I am passionate about the German one. Mexican, in the morning or to help the tequila. British if they are branded, the simpler the better, my English was never good and I don't taste artisans. There aren't many American ones and they are always the last option. And I give myself to the locals. In the Caribbean, Caribbean and, for Australia, Australian. And anyone from the East. Tall, slim, they beat me if I go to Prague. With strength and personality they are in Romania, more rude those of Bulgaria, you cannot lose sight of them.

In more national terms we are going into nuances. What could be expected from a nation of nations. Galician or Catalan make clear differences by clearly marking their accent. Basques or from Pamplona approach me for San Fermín. I don't make jokes about Seville, the poor have enough. I already said that I like all of them even though I have favorites. I get egocentrism. The autarky of my people. The water of the Manzanares. The love of a first kiss to that girl who does not change one iota in your memory. The virtue of being the same after so much time is scarce in our days. And I try to reciprocate the deal. Being unfaithful I have been loyal and I maintain my consumption with great regularity.

Kiss by kiss, liter by liter, it is part of my history and, as I have already mentioned, of the history of my liver. I wouldn't have played sports, I wouldn't have had friends, I wouldn't have kissed many. Filtering my demands when necessary. Bringing me from I don't know where, enough verb or ingenuity to help the conquest, always with laughter in the middle, she has always been my friend. I enjoyed it and I enjoy it in each set that comes across my life and its presence is constant. I would give a thousand references. But it is true that, on the beach, the sunlight or the contrast always make me very aware of what is really worth