I quit another shit job.


These are dark days for me. After I post this I’m going to look for a new job. Because I walked out on mine. The job market is complete shit. But what isn’t anymmore? So… I jumped ship again. It’s getting harder to find a place I fit into in this world. Working towards becoming something more will shine through in your day to day actions. “They” want to push you back down. “They” want to hold you back. You’ll be seen as a threat. Even if you don’t want to be.

I decided to quit my job Saturday. Tension had been building. I was told to do something I will never do. It was a degrading task. I refused. I was met with arguments against my stance. One of my equals asked me what the “big deal” was. I didn’t explain myself.

“Big deal? It’s not a big deal. I’m just not going to do it.”

“You need to step up man. Everyone else around here does their part for the team.”

“Why is it you’re not jumping at the chance then? It’s not too late to volunteer.”

I couldn’t go through with letting people below my level lead me. A few things brought me to this. One specific action led to losing any and all respect I could ever have for these people. Last week I had made myself a target by showing these people a part of my life. They met my wife. After, I dealt with childish attitudes and tantrums. I watched them try to explain how I could attract a girl like her to each other. Between sets of cold shoulders they watched my every move waiting for me to fuck up. They told on me everyday. I was told to step up followed by threats of being replaced. I knew I’d be losing the job as soon as they found someone that would make a better pet. I had made too many enemies. My boss confronted me everyday last week about my performance. It came out of nowhere and wasn’t a valid accusation.

Then came the ridiculous demand. Once I refused, tensions became an all time high. It’s nothing new to walk around a corner to find a huddle of people talking shit about me. This was something I hadn’t seen… They grew balls. They were openly calling me “a piece of shit” no more than 20 ft. away from me. I called them out. They backed off and pretended that they were talking about someone else.

The only reason I was asked to do the task that is too embarrassing to describe was the fact that they had painted a target on my back. Once their initial attacks did nothing to sway me they changed their tactics. They wanted me to quit. But they wanted me to do so on their terms. I realized what was going on miles before we got to this point. I realized that they needed me this weekend. They didn’t realize that their need for me was greater than my need for them.

They didn’t think I’d drop them in a pile of their own shit moments before one of the biggest days of the year.

I stewed. I feigned compliance. They confused my smile for sincerity. As hands were dealt I drew aces.

I asked them if my decision had created more tension. I was pretending to bluff. I pretended to be scared for my job.

“So, everyone’s mad at me now? Because I won’t do this one thing that doesn’t even fall into my job description?”

My boss was the first to reply.

“Well, I can’t make you do that. But I can remember that shit.”

His right hand man chimed in with a giggle and “OOOOH!”

I met this with eye contact and a smirk. I placed my finger to my lips.


He looked away and resumed his role as observer and pet. He looked to his master. His master walked around aimlessly for a moment. I was looking for them to place more bets. He paced back and forth and I spoke up once more.

“So, is that a threat or are you joking? I didn’t think this would be an issue. Honestly, I thought you were joking when I was asked to do it. That’s how ridiculous the whole thing is.”

He avoided eye contact and looked at our schedule posted on the wall. He let out a chuckle and followed with a sarcastic, “Nah, I’m just kidding.”

He took his pet outside and another guy showed up for his shift. He’s actually an alright dude. Lazy as fuck. But he minds his own business and as long as he doesn’t have to work he’s in a really good mood. I helped him get started and answered a few “how to” questions he had. I helped him, but I was just keeping busy until the boss man showed his face again.

“Man, I’ll help you get started because I know they’re dicks and won’t. But I’m about to walk out, so if I look or sound like I don’t give a shit it’s not you. It’s me. Well, it’s actually them.”

He asked why and didn’t understand after I explained a bit of the situation. I made a last attempt at shedding some light on the subject.

“I’m not going to let a job that doesn’t pay very well dictate who I am or what I do. I drew a line when they took a stab at my integrity. If that was the end of the attack we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m not going to deal with belly-aching cry baby cowards day in and day out. This isn’t the only shitty job out there.”

He looked very surprised still.

The boss returned and I pondered on the decision once again. I felt a bit insecure about the whole thing. The 48 Laws of Power came to mind. I realized I was afraid of what was to come. I gave it a moment to set in. It filled every ounce of me. I asked myself what I was afraid of. I couldn’t come up with a good answer. I asked myself where I saw this job taking me. I couldn’t come up with anything good enough to sway me from leaving. I looked back on the last few weeks. I looked at the aces in my hand. I told myself I don’t have a job planned out. I also told myself there is money in the bank and I’d find a job within a week or two.

I stopped what I was doing and clapped my hands together.

“You have some time to go into another room and talk?”


He looked worried.

“I can’t do this anymore. Every day I come in there is tension. I don’t feel inspired to do well, and that hurts both of us. There’s too much drama for how much money I make. I enjoy the work and I enjoy learning. I’ve made every effort to seize the opportunities available here. I don’t see it going anywhere.”

I prepared for a verbal assault. It didn’t come. He just looked surprised and said, “If that’s how you feel…”

I cut him off. “It is. I’m not left with much choice. Thanks for being cool about it. I’m out.”

I walked to the time clock and punched out. I said “Later” to a few haters. I walked out the door and didn’t look back. I started my car and blasted my favorite Immortal song. As I drove out of the parking lot I rolled my window down and stuck my fist into the wind. I couldn’t help myself.

I shouted out “WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and began singing along.

It’s very hard to find a job that encourages you to grow. Most people don’t want to be better people. They want you to be shit. When you’re not you will stand out. Unless you’re in a position of authority you won’t last long. Don’t let that control you. Don’t play their games.

Don’t let fear hold you back from where you want to be.


Avoid the majority. Recruit the worthy.


Living a life such as mine means walking a path less traveled.

I’ve found that making new friends is a rare thing as I get older. Sure, anyone can walk into a bar and make a friend. Striking up a conversation about nothing is simple. Going through that motion is almost pointless unless your point is to shoot shit. I don’t see a point in shooting shit. Anyone can get along with anyone, but when it comes to having substance the average person doesn’t have what it takes. People are only trustworthy for as long as it provides something they can obtain. They’ll buy you a drink and make empty offers. Cheap presents. Cheap presence.

They approach life as a parasite. It won’t take long to spot them out in a crowd. They are the majority. It’s harder to find someone of real worth.

People are impossibly stupid. Dealing with “ran-dumbs” means dealing with dumb. There isn’t much you can do to change that. The flock of retards out-and-about grows in number with each passing day. Their petty lives don’t live up to the picture they’ve painted over their mirrors. They believe their own lies. They always force a smile as I unintentionally give cues that I’ve noticed this flaw. They lose face when I show them that I can see through the lies they believe. As if being nice and patting them on the back will make it all better. I see this as a weakness. I see them as weak. I walk away from anyone like this. Or they walk away pissed and feeling less about themselves.

It forces my hand. I sever ties. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations of people, but that’s okay with me. I would rather have a small group of friends I can count on than go through with an empty charade with someone I’ll never respect.

According to NIMH, 26.2% of people 18 and over “suffer” from mental disorders. The “1 in 4 women have a mental disorder” posts that you have read throughout the ‘Sphere forget to mention something important. This “1 in 4″… it goes for men as well. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention states that suicide was the 10th leading cause of death in America in 2010. They also claim that in that same year someone died from suicide every 13.7 minutes. “…38,364 suicides were reported…”

How are we to socialize with people we don’t know while such a statistic slaps us in the teeth?

Call it pessimism. Call it anti-social. I don’t associate with very many people, and I call it being smart. Vigilant. I may shake hands, give a “Hey”, and shoot some bullshit, but it’s all an act. I don’t trust these people. I don’t give a shit about getting to know them unless there’s an undeniable connection and potential. That doesn’t mean that we like the same bands or agree that a specific political movement is stupid. I have no intention of letting them into my life. Not until enough time has gone by for me to assess their worth. I have standards. I don’t care about average people. You might say that I’m as fucked as the rest. You might be right. I’d have to say that my life has improved non-stop since I quit chugging brews with whoever was down. For many reasons… but I’m attempting to stay on topic for once…

I only put aside so much of my time for hanging out and parties. Actually, I haven’t been to a party in a long time. It lacks substance. The average person lacks substance. Over 25% of them aren’t stable. It’s obvious the majority will fuck you over if you allow them to. I’m just estimating this with zero data on the subject, but I’d put the amount of people in your life that would fuck you over for a can of worms to be higher than 98%. Up the ante and up the probability. I would even put money on that being the main goal of the majority. Not for the sole purpose of fucking someone over. They obviously do it for personal gain. No matter how little. There is no honor. Personal gain is all that matters. And they love the quote… “All is fair in love and war.”

I love this one… “Anyone that gets into a fair fight has no tactical skills.”

Build a clan. Create it from the ground up. Only include people you trust and make them earn their position. Cast out those who break the trust of the group. Cast out those that are weak. Especially those that don’t pull their own weight. Seek out individuals searching for themselves. Show them the way and be their mentor. Help them become the people they want to be. Form an old guard. Squash beefs before they begin. Hand out punishments swiftly and reward slowly. Be skeptical. Be vigilant. Be a leader. Have standards for others and yourself. Build a reputation. Take no shit. Those worth knowing will make themselves known.

This will require more from you than you may be willing to give. If that’s the case find a clan. Learn. Underdog it for a while and rise above.


Watching the change.


I slept in today. When I woke up I lit a cigarette and put on some music. My dogs couldn’t wait to run around outside. I let them out and chased two caps of Cannibal Inferno with a tall glass of Cannibal Ferox. (Both from Chaos and Pain.) I stepped outside wearing only a pair of gym shorts. My bare feet froze against the wet concrete. The cold wind contradicted yesterday’s warm weather. It was nothing more than a reminder of how quickly things can change. I watched the dogs run around chasing away every bird that dared to trespass in their territory. I admired their attempts at the almost-impossible. My stomach churned as it started to break down the pre-game supplements.

I walked back inside. I wasn’t digging my music choices and played a newer album by a similar band. I walked into the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror. My shoulders have grown very quickly. I started to feel the effects of one or both of the supplements. I started out my routine with a random warm up.

I picked up a cinder block and pumped out 25 squats. I walked around a bit. I repeated the squats. I shadow boxed slowly during my “rest”. I pumped out another set. Instead of a rest I went right into pressing the block over my head. A set of 25. I was starting to feel the supplements kick in.

I began. I started with more cinder block squats and jumped to standing skull crushers with an easy curl, interchanging between sets and taking 30 second rests. I grabbed the cinder block and used it like a kettle bell as I did “swings?” (I’m shit with the trending names of these workouts. I’ve heard them called many stupid things…) I interchanged that with forearm curls and repeated the process of 30 second rests. After 5 sets I took a two minute rest and started back at the top. My whole body was blood red. My heart was racing.

My dogs started barking to be let back in mid-set. I finished that set and let them in. I finished the routine and poured a glass of water. I picked up my phone and checked Twitter. I was greeted with the myriad of idiots I was ignorant enough to follow. My dogs were staring out the windows checking for possible trespassers. I decided to join them. They begged to go outside. I let them out.

I read more Twitter and caught wind of random happening across the world. I read a few news reports. Teachers are fucking their students and going to jail. Someone that worked for an airline tweeted a porn picture. Everyone assumes it was an accident. Chicago had a weekend of violence. Thirty-something cases of shootings. I read that protesters in Ukraine were once again pissed.

I skimmed through a handful of reports I still don’t understand. I tuned into the current song playing on my iTunes. I said the words aloud. It was a song I linked at the end of my last post.

“There is a god in man. And in nature. He who sits in the dark is the bringer of light.”

I thought about this for a moment. Just like anything else, it can be interpreted in many ways.  The more I think about it the more I like it. I reflected on a few things related to this. I stood up and flexed in the mirror. I admired the progress again.

Once again I was lost in my own world. I turned off the music.

I walked back outside. It was still cold. I was still covered in sweat. I watched the clouds move across the sky.


Hers are the translated lyrics of this song.

Another Time

A faraway prayer carried by the evening wind
Animates the leaves in their languorous dance
It’s the hymn of the old trees, sung for you
For those somber forests which are now asleep
So many seasons have passed without waiting for us
The golden leaves falling to the ground to die
Will someday come back to life beneath a radiant sky
But our eroded world will remain the same
And tomorrow, you and I will be gone

A quick post…

It’s been a long weekend. I spent all Saturday at work. I spent today working around the house and tying up a few loose ends. I’ve spent my entire night inside taking shelter from a storm/downloading obscure music illegally. Since I’m up I figured I’d knock out a post real quick. Tomorrow I have very few plans. Taking it easy.

Btw check the band up above out… They have cheap ass merch and if you search blogspots you can find their album easily. Currently they’re sold out.


This isn’t quite a ramble. More of a collection of specific points that have nothing to do with each other.

Danger and Play… I thought the guy had quit. I was glad to see he didn’t. And I’m stoked to see where he takes it. A lot of what he writes isn’t in my category. Totally different lifestyles. But I respect him. I agree with him on a lot of things… Especially the point he made about too many guys being caught up in Anti-feminism. Every now and again I disagree with him. Overall I think he has a great blog. Go check it.

Moving on…


Jealousy. Envy.

My wife came to my work to bring me some gear I forgot at home. She was dressed up (per the usual)… Lipstick, a modest dress, nails painted, hair done up…

My co-workers had never met her. The guys I work with are cool for the most part, but they’re not exactly great with women. They not exactly the greatest of men. One does alright. He actually isn’t included in the assholes in this story.  But he was in just as much shock as the rest of the crew when she showed up.

See, these dudes freak out over every girl that isn’t overweight. One girl we work with in particular gets a ton of attention. She’s okay. Maybe a strong 6 on a good day. She could do better, but why should she? All the guys freak out for her. She doesn’t go out of her way to look better and she won’t. And that costs her points with me. They don’t understand why I don’t foam at the mouth over this girl. Well, maybe they do now.

But the whole thing pissed most of them off. I’m the bad guy because I can pull a decent girl. I’ve met their wives. Land whales. Disgusting. I got to deal with shit attitudes the rest of the day. The one guy I spoke of early wasn’t this way. He actually told me to quit worrying about what they thought. It was something I needed to hear. He said, “Dude, don’t make their problem yours. You’re obviously doing something right… Don’t worry about it. I’m not worried about it.”

All I have left to say is this… Be prepared to be the odd man out once they see you have something they can’t get. Don’t expect them to line up and take notes. They’d rather cry themselves to sleep and hate your entire being. Deal with it in as little time as possible. Or work with real dudes and not pussies.

They don’t want to be better men. They want you to be a worse man.


“There is god in man. And in Nature.”

Another Ramble. I’ve lost count, but I think this makes #6. Or is it 7? (This is MY Life.)

Kid Strangelove started up Manosphere.com a few weeks ago. In his list he asked people to hit him up to be included in the list. I sent him an email and finally I’m getting some noteworthy stats. It’s great to know people are actually reading. Kid has done a great service for all of us.

I caught wind of strange business with Viva La Manosphere!, but that’s not why I quit visiting the site. I hate the new layout. I usually end up doing all of my blog reading on my iPhone. It looks terrible in the Safari browser.


I’m getting views from countries I’ve never heard of, and countries I don’t care to see. That’s not a stab at you guys. Not in the slightest. I think it’s great that a shit kicker like me is pulling views consistently from places like Israel and Barbados. I’m pretty sure a fella I’ve talked to a bit is living in Brazil… but I could be wrong.

The internet is an amazing thing. At times…

Four years ago I was barely delving into truths I had long known to exist. It was then I could finally start to accept the realities and reject the lies. It was the tip of the iceberg. I couldn’t imagine that I’d have the opinions and thoughts I harbor today. It’s been a ride to say the least.

I’m full of good feels tonight. Maybe it’s the mead. Yeah… I’m drinking a home brew.

Earlier tonight, I started writing this as my wife… Yeah, btw I’m a married dude now…GASP!!!!… she told me she was going to go to bed. We embraced and looked each other in a mirror. I saw how much older I look. I saw how much I look like my father. I ended up showing her a picture of my father for the second time as we compared which parent I looked like more.

Fuck… It’s been such a strange trip. This is life. I’ve had enough fun to fill a hundred lives to the brim. As I type there are two mutts laying on the couch next to me, two beautiful girls lay sound asleep under a roof I’ve worked too hard to gain and keep, I’m admiring another fresh scar on a knuckle as a badge that I wear with pride, I’m swiggin’ on my own brew, I’m still scratching at a new tattoo, Sigurd: book of the heroic outlaw sit next to me beggin’ me to read just one more page, my stomach is still digesting the heart of another slain deer, and I’m making this sentence way too long.

Too many times I’ve read posts about how “you ain’t a man unless you’re fucking plastic cum dumpsters in the back of VIP”. I’ve lived that life. It’s a joke. All that glitters isn’t gold.

My mason jar has run dry. One more refill.

I’m going to try to wrap this up.

You can aim for the stars all you want. Eventually, something is going to stop you. Appreciate what you have. Take time to smell the roses. Take time to kiss your grandmother on the forehead and tell her thanks. Take time to help your grandfather chop and stack next year’s firewood. Take the time to admire how far you’ve come. Blood can only flow so much. Even the gods bleed. Even the gods die.

I received some bad news today. About an hour later I received some great news. Bitter sweet. I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in much.

I fear the future. To say I’m not afraid of tomorrow would be a fucking lie. I face it head on as best I can. Some days bring sadness. Other bring joy to the point I think I’m a kid again.

Slowly but surely, I’m getting old. I have yet to hit my prime. I’m excited as fucking christ on the cross. But I’m still getting old. It’s crazy to think about all of the things I’ve done. It’s crazy to think there’s so much more to see.

Let’s cut the shit.

We’re miles ahead of ourselves. I see so many people argue over twitter as if their next breath depended on it. All I can do is shake my head. There’s too much more to life.

Call this whole movement what you want. Call it what you will. Add to it. What do you have to offer? Throw it into the fire. Let us sacrifice ourselves for the greater good.

I could use a few more scars. I don’t want anymore broken bones, but….


“Come what may.

I know that I’ll survive.”

Hey Tall man… I think you’re going to like this song. Check this band the fuck out. I got to open for these guys and Earth Crisis a few times… Awesome people. This album is tits in your face through and through. No edit. No fucking care. Live long and prosper. Bury your enemies in fucking ash.


Let’s talk about making wine. I’m going to do a simple run through of basic knowledge, gear, recipes, and methods I used when I first started. I’ve been doing this around 3 years now. I think. It’s a labor of love and patience. The recipe for any intoxicating past time. A while back I bought a kit to brew beer and thought I was going to head that route. I have yet to actually put the work into that. Anyways let’s get the fuck on with it.

How long does it take?

It depends on the recipe. Meads take about a year. Fruit wines take at least three months. You can add preservatives and let them age for years.

Why make your own mead or wine?

Get the fuck off of my blog.

But to answer that… It can be hard work. Depending on your methods, it’s a pain in the ass. Watching the yeast work it’s magic, tasting it during the process, and finally bottling the drink is a very educating and grounding experience. I bottle mine in a small oak barrel, mason jars, and wine bottles I’ve saved. I pass out the jars and bottles to friends and family. A gift I made with my own hands means more… plus it saves my broke ass some cash. People have been doing this for thousands of years and it’s important to know the shit they did.

It does cost money for every batch. If I’m making mead I usually do a 3 gallon batch. It takes at least 8-9 lbs of honey to do this and it’s not very cheap. Fruit wines (Country wines) are what I make the most. And meads. I’ve never made wine from grapes. I’m not Italian… and I hate California. I fucking HATE California. But that’s another post I’ll probably never write. In short… I don’t give a shit about making wine from grapes. Not yet anyways.

What do you need?

Do some research and find a local brew shop. They’ll have everything you need and tons of answers to questions. One thing to watch out for is the salesman. “Starter Kits” tend to be way more expensive than they should be. It’s much easier to buy everything piece by piece. You don’t need a lot. If you can’t find a brew shop, look online. I’ve never purchased gear this way so I’m not going to recommend a website. I am going to rip all of my pictures of gear from home-brewing.northernbrewer.com so there’s that link.

You can use whatever gets the job done. Essentially all that you’re doing is cooking. There is no right or wrong as long as you’re getting the results you want. This is just a simple run through of gear I started out with and the reasons for using them above others.


1. You’re going to need something to brew in and something to siphon the brew into. This is going to be called the Primary and Secondary, respectfully. I recommend getting two 1 gallon glass jugs. You could get a food-grade bucket (very important as some plastics secrete oils and are very porous), and one glass jug, but it’s easiest to just start small and cheap.

Two of these will cost you around $10-15. You could also buy a couple gallons of wine and save the jugs. Many people do this.


2. You’re going to need two airlocks and two bungs. Probably the cheapest pieces of gear you’ll be buying. Bungs are a rubber cap that fit into the end of the bottle. They have a hole (heh). Airlocks fit in this hole (heh). You fill the airlocks with about a fluid ounce of water. This will keep the oxygen out of the brew. I hear oxidized wine is a terrible thing. Again, you’re going to need two of each.

There are a few styles. I like these the best.


If you’re using one gallon jugs use a No. 6 sized bung. Most of the time… hell, just ask the people in the shop for a bung.









3. You’re making sugar water into alcohol. You’re going to need to test how much sugar is in the brew. This is why you’ll need a hydrometer. More on this in a bit. It’s actually very cheap as well. I got mine for $5.

You’re going to want to save the plastic tube that it came in. Don’t throw that bitch away.


4. In order to get the brew out of the jug you might be inclined to pour it out. Don’t do that. Siphon that beastly brew (referred to as “racking” or “rack that beastly brew”… nahmsayyin???!) or the sediment and dead yeast will flow right back into place and you’ll only add time to the slow process.

You could buy an auto-siphon. But I don’t. I don’t even know how they work. I use a racking cane and a 4 ft. plastic hose. It’s tricky to learn. Thankfully?, I spent my youth being a pain in the ass and had a father that taught me how to siphon gas from cars. I’m pretty good at it.

I think it’s best to buy this and the hose in person. You can actually see the amount of hose you’re dealing with and make sure that it fits the cane.


5. While you’re at the shop throw down another $1 on a recipe book. Okay so this is the cheapest thing you’ll buy. There’s a very popular one simply called Winemaker’s Recipe Handbook. It has everything you need to know about the basics of the craft all way up to simple meads and on to very intricate recipes. It’s bright and purple as shit. Everything in it is mapped out for 1 gallon recipes.


6. Campden Tablets, acid and other good shit. Campden tabs will kill any wild yeast or bacteria in the brew before you pitch the yeast. Yeast. don’t leave the shop without buying yeast or you won’t be brewing shit. Acid… most shops sell an acid blend. I suggest starting there.

Expect to pay about $5-10 in this important shit. There are other nutrients, energizers and tannins you might need depending on the recipe. Check the book and figure out what you want to make before you leave or you’re just going to go home without an essential ingredient. Ask the dudes/dudettes at the shop for help with deciding what to start with if you need to.


Now you’ve got the gear and you’re ready to do this. There isn’t much in the way of right or wrongs as I’ve said before. But there is an easy and a hard. Depending on the steps you take and the fruit you use, it could be the difference between 30 minutes to an hour long preparation versus four.

I like to save my time for things like running shirtless in the hills chanting songs of old, watching my dogs chase birds, shooting guns, squeezing asses and titties, and getting drunk on my last batch. So since I’m a busy man I decided long ago that I will never ever… ever… press my fruit into pulp by hand again. Throw that shit in a blender.

Here is a breakdown of what I’m getting at.

You’re going to be mixing raw fruit with water. Depending on the recipe you could end up using a lot. Off the top of my head, I think it’s 8 lbs. of apples per gallon for apple wine. It’ll be at least 2 or 3 pounds for most fruit. You need the pulp and you need the juice. The pulp will provide additional flavor and the juice will become the base of your brew. You don’t want to press that much fruit. Not by hand. And in my experience it doesn’t matter if you can pull out the pulp or not. By the time the brew is ready it’ll will settle to the bottom. And since we siphon everything… you get it… if not just listen to what I tell you and you will.

Buy your fruits and spices or whatever you plan to throw into the mix. You can start with frozen or fresh fruit. I use frozen. It’s much easier and has a higher consistency. Plus you won’t have to stem a hundred strawberries and waste half of them because they’re rotten. Also, buy enough sugar for the batch.

Check your recipe and go to the store. It’s not difficult.


Here are the steps I take to start a primary fermentation. This is going to be where most of the fermenting takes place.

1. Sanitize your shit. This is very important. You don’t want shit growing in your wine or something to kill your yeast before it even begins pissing out the wine. Yes… wine is yeast piss.

You can use a food-grade sanitizing solution or just dilute some bleach. I think the ratio is a Tablespoon to two cups of water. If you’re using bleach make sure you rinse everything well. You can use the 2 cups of solution to sanitize all of your gear. Don’t skip this step.

2. Now that everything is sanitized, pull out that book and line up all of your gear. Pull out the fruit and throw it into a blender. You’ll probably have to add a half cup of water. While that’s going pull hot water (all of the water for the batch) from your tap and mix your sugar in it. Now that your fruit is a thick puree dump it into the primary. Dump the remaining ingredients. Stir the shit out of it. Make sure every grain of sugar is dissolved. Stir some more.

3. Pull out that hydrometer. Pour a good amount into the container the meter came in. We’re going to test the sugar content and project (this isn’t going to be accurate) the potential alcohol content of the brew. You can do what you want here. For a good tasting brew you’re going to aim for a 1.09 on the scale. You can go over but don’t bitch when it tastes like vodka. The more sugar the higher the reading… the higher the projected alcohol.

4. So your brew is coming along nice and there is a huge mess in your kitchen. Now it’s time to pull the campden tablets. You only need one. Put it into a bowl and grab a spoon. Crush it gently and mix a few oz. of water with it and completely dissolve it. Throw it into the brew. Stir. This will kill everything in the brew. Give it at least 24 hours to sit.

5. It’s now tomorrow and it’s been 24 hours since you dropped the tabs into the beautifully colored mix that’s going to get you drunk sooner than you think. It’s time to pitch the yeast.

Take the packet you bought at the store and read the instructions on the back. If there are no instructions on the back you bought yeast made by an ass. This isn’t your fault. And you have THE BASTARD SON here to help. You could just toss the yeast into the batch and stir, but it doesn’t kick off quite as fast.

Grab a cup and turn you water tap to just under hot. You’re looking for 100 Fahrenheit. Use a thermometer if you need to. Throw your wrist into the water and make sure it doesn’t burn but it’s warm. It needs to be colder than a normal shower, but not much. Pour the yeast into a bowl and dump the water into it and stir it up with a fork until it dissolves. Let it sit 10 minutes. It might grow a bit, but it might not. Dump it in the brew and stir the shit out of it. Now temperature plays a big part in this. Aim to keep the brew in low 70s to high 60s Fahrenheit until it’s ready to drink.

And keep it in the dark. Light fucks it up they say. I’m not sure though. I keep mine in a closet. I used to keep it next to my water heater in my last place. Pick a spot man. Whatever.

In about 3-5 hours check it. It should be growing like a science project gone terribly wrong.

6. Let it sit two days and test it with the hydro meter. I use a turkey baster to pull it from the jugs. If you want a sweeter wine you’re looking for a 1.05. If you want a dryer wine aim for a 1.03. My first batch went all the way down. It turned out okay. But not really. You can always add a bit more sugar to sweeten it up later on. It could take up to 5 days maybe even 6 to get the reading you want. The bubbles should be flowing and that airlock should be jumping around like an 18 year old girl rolling on molly at a Hunter Moore show. Test it often. By the third day test it three times a day. It’s very easy to miss your mark.

7. Your readings are in and you couldn’t help but taste the creation at hand. It’s time to rack. Place the cane that you’ve attached to the hose into the jug. Siphoning works with gravity. Place the brew onto a table and place an empty jug close on the floor. Holding the cane just above the bottom of the jug (to avoid sucking dead yeast into the next bottle) begin to suck (heh) the brew from one bottle to the other. You may want to ask a lady friend to help in this step. It’s hard to hold the cane and move about, that’s not a joke.

As soon as you see it peak the curve of the cane let off and throw the end of the tube into the empty jug. You’ll hear a distinct sound you’ll eventually pick up on. It should be freely flowing. To stop the flow just lift the cane above the brew.

8. Once the brew has filled the empty jug clean the dirty one. You’ll be doing this again soon. Let the brew sit two weeks and rack it again. Then let it sit two months. Rack it again. Continue on wracking it every two months and tasting it. Once you think it’s been enough time…

9. Drink up.


This was probably my longest post. I hope that you learned something. I hope that you try it. As I type there are 2 gallons of straw-cranberry wine in the works and 2 gallons of a peach melomel aging nicely in my closet. I’m also about to start a batch of plain old mead.

Bitches love mead.

If I die tonight…

***Video is NSFW


Death is just around the corner. Watching. Waiting.

We have so little time to live. We all seek out truths and struggle to wrap our heads around them. We wrestle with whatever fate there is left for us. We fist fight gravity as we lift another set of weight into the air. We push against the grain. We carve out paths. We justify our actions and beliefs. We attract what we deserve.

Rising and falling. The only road we end up walking. Ups. Downs.

We push ourselves to live better. Against the flow of the society that created us. We watch the peasants fight over scraps. They scream and cry out, “Not fair,” followed by the ever so irritating, “CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE!” They waste their own time as we resume our walk and ignore them once more.

My conversation with Aurini comes to mind again. These peasants fool themselves into thinking we owe them something. They pretend that our accomplishments were passed down. As if we were born with a silver spoon.

Everything I have, I’ve had to fight tooth and nail to gain. To better my life I make sacrifices. Even if that means nailing myself to the tree as Odin did. We destroy our weaknesses. We sacrifice ourselves. This is the path to change.

If I hear someone share their thoughts on death, more often than not, I don’t believe they’ve actually sat and thought about it. Most of the time I hear, “I’m not afraid of death. When it’s my time it’s my time.” I don’t believe this claim. We naturally do everything we can to survive. Minus the suicidal ones.

I have my fears of death. I hope that I leave all of my loved ones in a good position in life. I worry that if I die tonight, these people would be walking without me. I fear going before I’m done. I fear leaving this world with unfinished business. Loose ends. I fear not leaving a solid ground for the memory of my life to stand on.

I want to be remembered. I want to have mattered.

When I pass I want them to say, “The Bastard Son. Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. The Beasts of this land fell at his hands. He nourished his clan with the flesh he cultivated from the earth. This same clan drank the many wines he was known to make. He shared the fruits of his labor with many warriors and maidens that fought and worked by his side. Many respected him. More feared him. Far too few had the opportunity to be graced with his presence.”

As it stands, as I live, I feel like I fall short of achieving this. I also want to clarify that this isn’t my one true goal. Words said over my corpse mean nothing. What I’m saying is that is the type of person I want to be remembered as. In order to achieve anything like this… I have to make the choices that put me into that life. I have to live that life.

Little by little, step by step along this rocky road I’ve become more. I’ve had set-backs. I’ve spent time not even moving. I may die without becoming everything I want to be, and that’s okay. I want to die trying. Scraping against the concrete and stones as I pull myself that much further. I want to quit slowing down. I want to quit stopping.

If I die tonight… I want to go fighting. I don’t want to die. I want to live.