Not only does magic hat produce the best beer in the whole world, but it also gives its sippers life lessons when they pop open their bottle caps to take a nice crisp swig.
Yes, I've gotten weird looks when I tell people that I rely on magic hat caps to give me inspiration and a reason to move forward, but I clearly don't care.
Dear magic hat,
I love every 12 oz of you and with each sip you steal even more of my heart and memory.
love, lauren.
I collect them all and have them laying around my desk and work space for inspiring thoughts and ideas.
I close my eyes and reach to the top of my shelf and grab one.
Some people read quotes from Aristotle or the Bible in the morning to start their day, I drank a magic hat and save the cap in my wallet.
My favorite cap, which still makes my heart skip a beat:
"Enjoy a heart, it's a work of art" (sigh)
on tap or in the bottle, you can't beat a magic hat in your right hand and good conversion on your left. my favorite bartenders are the ones that get excited about the top as much as I do and give it to me without asking. They always get 100 % at the end of the night.
If you don't know what my favorite beer is, you are not my friend. Stop reading this.
Magical Hatteras: "The Ancient Ritual of brewing a distinctly rich and flavorful beer is nothing short of magic. Our mysterious mix of time-honored ingredients, chaotic chemistry, humble patience, and blind faith age into the secret brew we share in the rousing company of good spirits.
"Feel Strange at least twice a Day"
"Beer for peace"
what the hell.
you know how great bands decide that after a rather long song on track 13 that goes on forever and ever then finally ends, yet doesn't skip to the next track, but keeps on going in silence...
until finally.... the secret song starts playing?
Here's my question: What are we supposed to do with the time between the secret song and the end of the eleven minute track before it? Five, even sometimes up to ten minutes of waiting in silence and anticipation. Are you supposed to talk? Or is that rude...like talking RIGHT in the middle of a great chord in a perfect song. This tactic of the secret song is not good for impatient people.
Here are your options: you could press forward. But then you risk accidentally pressing too hard and then the whole album starts again from the beginning and then you could try again but you risk it yet another time. And you don't want to just fast forward through the song before the secret song because somehow they are connected, like high heals, a cigarette and Frank Sinatra.
Everyone knows what I’m talking about. It's a trap I tell you.
And the craziest thing about the secret song is that it's usually always SO good. The whole album could potentially suck, but that one random track tucked in between silence and distant harmonies can make you download the whole virus filled track before it, just to get a listen to them jamming in the back of a studio pretending like the mics aren't on.
So you are forced to wait or take crazy risks in hopes to put just the right touch on the seek button.
The greatest though is if you are casually listening to the whole album and without realizing it you are listening to silence as you continue your business and then ALL OF A SUDDEN, without any warning, there it is.
The first few beats start and you look up from your work and start smiling hysterically because YOU DID IT. and you can listen to it with no stress about button pushing or impatience sitting in dreadful silence. you can enjoy the song as it is supposed to be enjoyed. with your whole, open heart.
A sucker for live music
A personal shopper
A traveler
A New Yorker
A driver
A good dancer
A green pepper
A makeup artist
A self-proclaimed philosopher
A Christian
A Taoist
A hypocrite
A blogger
A seamstress
A soul mate
A tree hugger
A person hugger
A bartender
A chef
An insane asylum worth of thoughts
A note leaver
I am…
Your biggest fan
A believer
A direction giver
A backseat driver
A magazine subscriber
A newspaper reader
An early riser
A night owl
A late sleeper on Sundays
An exaggerator
A stylist
A vegetarian
A photographer
An extrovert
An introvert
Alive at night
A secret
A yogi
I am…
Famous
A good listener
A file cabinet
An ex-girlfriend
An ex-friend
A pianist
A map reader
A writer
A partner
A soul searcher
A volunteer
A future mother
An artist
A friend of a friend
An actress
A mover
A daughter
I'm mindlessly scribbling down everything I can think of.
My mind can't think.
March went by one night while I was sleeping. Wasn't Valentine's Day only yesterday?
I'm supposed to leave in 3 weeks. I feel like I just stepped off the plane.
I was born to move. I don't miss much of anything from home. I couldn't even make a small list if I tried. I can barely name a thing besides people. Perhaps I could pocket all of my loved ones and take them here, then presumably I would have everything I want in the world...
My favorite meal here might be lunch. I buy fresh fruit every morning: strawberries, blood oranges and kiwis are always in my basket. After, without fail, I will always have a gelato cone. Two flavors. Most days I will go back two or even three times to make sure I get a full variety that day. My day is clearly very stressful.
I'm listening to sad music right now. But something doesn't fit. It's cold ouside, but I'm in a warm state of mind and I'm out of balance because I'm ready for spring yet winter weather lingers on too long.
The world is not big and everything is normal. Who is to say it isn't. We all live next door to each other and 100 years is a tease. I always wonder what goes on in Damien Rice's head when he writes his songs...
I keep wanting to describe Italy differently. Love is the only word I can think of.
Lovers lay in each others laps on the steps and sprawl onto their backs on benches. They hold each others cheeks in restaurants and hold hands when trying to eat. They nuzzle and snuggle like they are completely alone and no one is offended, no one asks them to leave. People here love life, they love being in love, they love being alive everyday and they know how to enjoy each others company, because this my friends, is it.
And we can only save ourselves (Oasis got it wrong).We should never feel stuck. And we should never feel like we belong somewhere else.
As my dearest friend Elizabeth just told me about two seconds ago: where you go, "it's in your blood now- it will always be a part of you. You'll always take it with you, in everything you do."
She then told me to imagine the first time when I go back and how incredible it will be. So obviously I looked up flights online to return for next year...
On the plane to Italy I saw a shooting star while we were jetting across the Atlantic Ocean.
The only wish I could think of quickly was to get me to Florence safely.
I figured I don’t need a star for all my dreams to come true in Italy.
I live on Via Dei Pepi….with Pepi. Yes, the street is named after my home’s family. The house is beautiful and is right next to Santa Croce where most of the weekend markets are located.
The bell rings noting each meal of the day. We always wake up before the “ding ding” though because of the clammer of pots and dishes in the kitchen preparing for la colazione. The food is cooked by scratch everyday which seems to be done with little effort and only takes about 30 minutes to prepare the best food
in Italy. We eat around a huge table and are served course after course of Italian goodness. We have roommates and visitors from all over the world that speak in every language imaginable and dinner is always a mixture of them all.
The walk to school everyday is a painters dream. The colors are never dull painted on the huge ancient buildings, even when the day is covered in rain. On sunny days the water glistens and twinkles mirroring all the colors of Ponte Vecchio and the cobblestone seems to beg you to take a different route to school everyday. We stop on the way for fresh fruit, mostly oranges, located on every corner each morning.
I study Italian wine three times a week with the most famous Italian wine family in Italy and I eat chocolate from the chocolate market outside my house on the weekends with friends around the building that holds Michelangelo, Machiavelli and Galileo’s bodies. I frolic on the same streets at night where the greatest
artists and philosophers in history walked everyday.
I am absolutely in love. I'm in love with this city, with the people, with my new friends.
Today was sunny outside, markets were everywhere, people had smiles and the smell of food throughout the piazza made everyone want to play outside. The sun’s refection on the water danced around t
he gondolas and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. We got lost on the way home which we were not surprised at all about seeing that we have not been on time or gone the right way once since we arrived, and the shops and boutiques seemed to scream at us to come inside, which
of course, we did.
We are regular customers of a lively il ristorante, Bar Salamanca, which is conveniently located about 100 steps from our house. When you walk in the smell of Spanish food and the sound of salsa music is permeating through the air. The walls are deep red with dark wood panels and candles light up the walls. Soccer is always on the big screen and the bartenders and waiters are quite possibly the cutest boys in the entire Italian peninsula. After too much sangria and fruit someone inevitably starts to move their hips and out comes the start of much dancing. If you go to Florence, go get some Spanish loving at Salamanca, you won’t be disappointed.
I’m not sure if I knew exactly how happy I would be here until I arrived. It was beyond what I imagined, above any expectations and no sign of unhappiness is creeping by. This place is heaven, perfect and the definition of la dolce vita.
We just booked our southern Italy trip for April. Capri, Sorrento, and Pompeii for a
three day weekend. I hope that I don’t “accidentally” miss the bus to go home…
I get most of my ideas about life when I'm driving.
I keep about three blank notepads and at least four working black ballpoint pens in my left side door for my periodic moments of “eureka!” thoughts. They come frequently. Most of the time I can’t decipher my handwriting when I look back at my moments of glory, so I end up throwing away what could be Nobel prize winning ideas.
Inspiration comes from everywhere. Literally. But people who inspire you, are treasures. I have a best friend, “B” (I have a habit of calling people by the letter of their first name), who is the definition of inspiration. In the darkest of times or the worst of days, I am myself and the self that I love when I am around him, talking, listening. My favorite part of my personality, my best sense of humor and the loveliest optimist pours out like Niagara Falls. He, is one of the greatest human beings to roam the earth. Meet him.
I've come to understand that music changes your life. It electrifies your soul and cues all your pain. I have realized this through various music that spontaneously pops up in my iPod shuffle that seems to fit my mood exactly without me even realizing what mood I'm in. Music helps you realize the cornerstones in your life and the mountains you have overcome. Music that you have secretly taken off your computer or that you make sure is never turned up on the radio because of the attachment it has on your feelings. Then one day it comes on your shuffle mix and you realize you can listen to the whole thing and enjoy it because it has no attachment to the past anymore. It is a realization that you are getting over things, that you are finally moving on and that you are completely and utterly happy. It’s music that breaks your heart, throws you to the ground, yet sometimes is the only thing that can lift you back on your feet again. It has the potential to break you and put you back together at the same time. Powerful? Understatement.
I love long dresses when I’m listening to music. So long that when I stand on my tip toes when the best part of the song comes on, the dress still drags on the tops of my feet. So long that my legs get entwined in the fabric as the song plays and drags behind me when I turn slow circles in my room. Long dresses make music tangible. A couple more for breakfast, a little more for tea. Some songs should last forever.
I am quite possibly the luckiest person in the world. Vincent Van Gogh once said "the best way to know God is to love many things". I have the best friends anyone could ask for. I love them all and am known to be very forward and frequent in letting them know this. They are my family, my joy, my heart. They have showed me love and comfort and the simplest ways to be happy. I know an angel. She is quite possibly the closet person to God I have ever met. When she walks into a room you feel His presence. It's incredible.
The world is full of love. That’s it. And when there’s darkness, love is always creeping near. Love shown to strangers and humanity in itself brings tears to my eyes. The Liberty Mutual Insurance commercial of people helping each other, leading to a domino affect of kindness makes me cry every time. Life is too short for jobs we hate, for people we aren’t sure about and for opportunities missed.
I never know what I want. I think I do most times but end up changing my mind within minutes. I change my mind more in one day than the amount of babies born daily.
Have lovers. Have friends. Have sheer pleasure. Eat lots of honey mustard.
Perfume. Where memories are reborn and lost thoughts are recaptured, some wanted and others very much unwanted. Smell is the best and worst trigger of memories.
I don't think I believe in true love. I believe in success. Although, Death Cab for Cutie’s song Follow You Into the Dark doesn't help me keep this mentality. How life would be if you loved someone so deeply and they loved you even more, that when you died, the other's heart died too. We are the most hurtful to the ones we love the most. We feel that no matter the limit of pain, they will always be there. And distance, unfortunately, does not make the heart grow fonder.
My sister showed me a website, To Write Love On Her Arms, and I found the most beautiful quote from their art...
“Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom; tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.”
Oh. And dream dictionaries are fact. They never lie. Next time you have a weird dream, look it up and see if it matches up to your life. It will. I promise.
Posts
