Drinking is personal.

  My relationship with alcohol is more complicated than anything else I've encountered in my life, because at the end of it all, it's really about my own internal struggle and conflict with how I live and what kind of reality I see every day. The past is hazy, I leaned hard into the mind altering, carefree way that a couple of beers could make you feel, nobody loved the 2 or 3 beer buzz more than I...nobody. I didn't want to get obliterated every night, my addiction was far less insidious and in front of me in a way that I wanted to escape but still seem in control. Just enough alcohol to numb, not enough to become a problem for anyone but myself. And without the health issues I encountered last fall, I don't see how I would have interrupted that pattern without some form of intervention, from the outside or within.

 I always say that nobody know more about how to diet and exercise than a fat guy, we know the stats and what we need to do, we just can't find the will or the way to do it...but baby, do we know the cheap, expensive and everything in between about it. Same goes for drunks. I can see through different, sober, eyes now, even though I always knew the problem existed. I watch how much everyone else seems to drink now, and know that I probably drank at least as much and probably more. Until you step back, you don't see how many you're putting back in a week, they all blur together into a mash of everything is okay...until the day it isn't.  

  We glamorize the new releases and beer fests, ignoring the underlying social and health issues associated with our favourite thing outside of paying homage to fallen pals and urging the "moderation" crew as long as it doesn't impact the bottom line. We don't want to talk about the societal issues, health ramifications and mental health problems associated with alcohol, we just want to see pretty reels and pictures about community and having a good time. We know deep in our souls that everything on social media is seen through a foggy lens of false perfection, all the while claiming authenticity and good times. I live in this world, it is my window and my door, the only way I feel like I belong anywhere is when I exist there and it is exhausting. The break I forced myself to take from most of it during my initial recovery was freeing in a way, but I still find myself drawn back into its orbit because I don't know what else to do or where I should go. I like talking about beer and how it feels, even the non-alcoholic ones have a way of giving you a break from the world, where you can focus on what's in your glass instead of the growing dystopia that seems to be gaining momentum around the globe. I know so many folks want beer and other alcohol based communities to be free of politics and a place for everyone, but as we have seen and heard for so long, the more things change, the more they stay the same when it comes to our problems and our inclinations. Is it wrong for people to want an escape? A place where the biggest problem is a beer style they don't like or an off flavour killing the lager vibe? The gathering of like minded individuals, who's political leanings may or may not be aligned, is possible, as long as no one rocks the boat or makes it weird. But making it weird means making it better. Making it weird for the majority means everyone can feel weird together. 

But what do I know, I'm a drunk...

Polk

September 29th, 2025

One Year Later...

                             

  I woke up this morning, knowing it's been exactly 1 year since the last time I indulged my inner drunk and had way too many pints, topped off with a big old glass of whiskey. One year since I could barely breathe after going up a flight of stairs or walking to my car and one year since my resting heart rate was somewhere around 170 beats per minute. In those 365 days, I have not let go of reality even once. No slip ups or "accidents", never having more than 2 beers in a single day and no hard liquor of any kind. Part of this is predicated by all the medications I'm on to help control blood pressure and keep my heart from running itself out of beats before my time is supposed to be up. But the other part has become a battle of internal monologues, each vying for supremacy and each with some good points to be made. 

  On one side, we've got the good times Polk, the drunkard who loves to let go and seeks the haze that only a half dozen beers and a full glass of whiskey can bring. He seeks the nostalgia of a past that sometimes isn't just seen through rose coloured glasses, it's outright delusional. But he relaxes. He takes the weary mind and the world gone mad and just let's them go. He watches his favourite movies and shows and has not a care in the world except for his next drink and he gets to drift away into the night, careless and thoughtless.

  The other side, Sober Polk, hangs off me like an ill-fitting suit two sizes too small. The biggest problem I have run into being sober for an entire calender year is the unrelenting reality of the world around me. Living through the entire last year without a hazy filter or escape has led me down some pretty dark paths and while I know intellectually that drinking too much is part of why I'm where I am today, I still can't help but miss it dearly. Sober Polk is a quieter guy, but he rages underneath and sometimes that bubbles through unintentionally. I feel like I have begun to care less about things that used to be important, maybe to not have to feel any emotion or maybe to shield myself from the temptation to say "Fuck it", and pour the last of my whiskey from a year ago and fire the whole thing up again. It would lead to my demise faster than I'd like, but somedays, sober me gets the feeling that he isn't afraid of that anymore.

  That I haven't given into my lesser angels this year has been a surprise to me for sure. I remember lying in that hospital bed trying to figure out and bargain with whatever the universe is to be able to just go back to living as I had been. What part of my intellect was I suppressing to try and make that work is beyond me, because I knew life was changing and would never be the same again...but then it kind of has been, just without any release from reality and responsibility.  I wanted it all to just be a big misunderstanding and it has turned into an internal struggle for my very existence. I know I am better now than I was a year ago and I have an incredible opportunity to further take my health in a better direction with the help of many professionals, part of a bariatric/heart health study I have agreed to be part of. I like when they ask me if I drink and I can honestly say 2 or 3 beers a week. 1 specialist asked if I could go completely dry and, without hesitation, I said "Yes.". 

And I meant it.

  I have come to enjoy my pursuit of the best in non-alcoholic beers over the last 9 months plus. I've found some incredible gems among the almost 200 different offerings I've been able to find. The ability to keep writing and talking about some kind of beer is part of what keeps me sane and around. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't do even that little escape into what I love to do. But as I have learned in the last year, I am capable of change, even if I fight myself all the way through it. 

  I need to lose a lot of weight still, apparently it wasn't the beer after all, I know, I was surprised too. I need to reevaluate my relationship with food and the how and why I eat the way that I do. I need to become more active, even if it scares to take the first step on a walk that could alter my life forever. The things I seek exist in the wisps of the future that stretch out into the unknown. I am not sure if I am truly capable of the next steps, I honestly have been fighting myself for so long that I am sometimes lost as to how to get myself unstuck. But I have hopes that with professional help, including some much needed therapy for my mental health, I can find some new tools to help me find a way forward into an even brighter future.

Thanks for all the support to everyone who's reached out in the last year. Your kind words have meant the world to this old fella and I appreciate every message, DM and comment I get. I don't wanna go anywhere, I still got a lot left to say.

Cheers!

Polk

09/22/25

The Path not Taken - A tale of Coors Light, Temptation and the Christmas that wasn't

  

There is a very fine line between craft beer enthusiast and common drunkard and I am a man who lives quite easily on either side of said line. A long time ago I discovered the transformative, albeit potentially and actually destructive, properties of alcohol and have often ventured down the path of oblivion for the pure and simple embrace of darkness. I'll not lie and say I don't enjoy the good buzz 4 or 5 pints gives me or the warm and fuzzy feelings you get after a few shots of whisky, but in the last few years, it has been far more about the flavours and exploration of what this craft beer life had to offer. Occasional missteps aside, I certainly do not consume the sheer volume of beers I used to put back when I was really and truly a drunk. I've relived a lot of those times in different posts here on the blog, my penchant for cheap macro beer that could be consumed in large quantities and quickly deliver a short to my central nervous system was well known, troublesome and yet somehow just part of who and what I was. I would come home from work many nights at midnight after a 15 hour day and quickly pound a 6 or 12 pack in a matter of an hour or so before heading to bed and then repeating ad nauseam as I struggled to stay afloat in a world that was quickly falling apart around me. Enter craft beer, a whole lot of soul searching, drinking, anxiety, depression, adventure, excitement and growth as I tried to change the track of my life as my mid forties chugged along headed for the mid-century mark of life. I like to think I've changed a lot and for the most part my relationship with beer has changed, most days are one and done and off I go to do what I do with my precious free time.
  But there are days...
  This last Christmas season was not a good time for this guy. I was mired deep in a funk that brought out the worst in my moods, quietly brooding and honestly thinking about little but the darkest of thoughts about myself, my future and how long I was even going to be around for. I could not shake it and while to most folks, my outward social media and real life performance was one that seemed happy and carefree, excited for Christmas even as I pondered if it would be my last. Kat took the brunt of my silent struggle as I was monotone and morose at the best of times, leaving her no doubt feeling helpless and alone as I struggled with dark demons that are known only to me, in my head and soul I fought on. I'm here to say that she helped me overcome my own damn self and I am well on the road to recovery once again, a little battered and bruised, but wiser and armed with some new tools and outlooks on how I can avoid slipping again.
  Why is this important to the end of the tale I tell today? It leans heavy into my past and the loss of control I used to relish when one beer became ten became a two-four. On Christmas Eve, I was shaken with demons inside and struggling to compose myself around my extended family without resorting to self medicating as I was finding my footing without sliding into over consumption as the holiday approached it's zenith. I had brought several big ABV beers to share, but no one was really into the sauce, a good thing I'd say as we gather with my Mom's extended side of the family and there are still a lot of little ones around. While I was trying to avoid going off track, I couldn't decide what beer to drink and not really feeling anything at all, I stepped outside and grabbed a Coors Light out of the case Dad always has on hand for Christmas guests. Why? I don't know, for a lark, because I hated myself a little for how I was feeling at a time of year I usually shone with joy or maybe because I know exactly what that kind of beer is to me. I quickly downed 3 and took a couple of travellers next door to my Granny's, where the clan was gathering for an hour or so of Eve gift exchanging and yearly checkins with those cousins we wish we could see more of. The Coors lights were having zero effect on my mood or delivering that old fashioned, good time Polk buzz that I was so used to and yet, as I drank them, I knew it would be so easy to slip back into that comfortable robe of empty promises I used to wear so well. You don't drink macro beer because it tastes good, although a lot of us drink craft beer a little like it's macro sometimes too, you drink it because it delivers what it promises, refreshing a dry palate and sweet, sweet drunk love. I am not going for the beer snob angle at all with this, I am quite capable of madness on a dozen IPAs too, but it isn't something I chase quite so quickly or often...if at all. But these blue mountains flowed from the can and bottle like ambrosia to some part of my mind and while I didn't get hammered and have some sort of tale of redemption a la Scrooge, nor did my mood improve until later that week when Kat was finally able to get me to listen and see where and what I was feeling wasn't real that I pulled out of my spiral and headed back to a higher altitude with a broken wing that was holding on with a little duct tape and best wishes.
  I couldn't quite shake that feeling though, the one when the beer hits your lips and just goes down without any thought or interest in what was going on, save another one and the one after that. It is tempting to shut all this social media down, lean back with a 24 and just let go and be gone into a haze wholly familiar. It would be so much simpler, easy to work a 10 hour day, get bent on a 6 or 12 pack of MGD or Pabst and sleep it off, I was and am practically immune to hangovers and that is a whole other story that will need another day and time to cover. I know that guy I was, I am comfortable being that guy and it seems far too easy and maybe preferable to let all this go and become that guy once again...
But I don't want that to be how my story ends, I have changed so much that I cannot fathom letting everything I've learned about who I am and what I could become go because it is easier to do things the old way. I may drink too much occasionally, I may not always be the best role model for anyone, but I am leaving nothing hidden and that honesty has delivered me from darkness again and again.
  So that's a little peek inside the Mind of Polk this early January Friday, I want to do more of this stuff this year, I miss getting these thoughts out of my head and onto the screen. It isn't perfect, but neither am I, best I can do is try and tell you how I feel, how I got here and what is going on. Maybe it helps someone, I don't know, but I do know it helps me and that's gotta be worth something at the end of it all.


Cheers!
Polk

I Drink (but not as much as you think)

"How much do you drink?"


  A serious and not so serious inquiry I get a lot of as a very public consumer of beer. I post daily, often multiple times and that leads people to believe I am in a permanent state of either being hungover or drunk. I will admit that a year and a half ago when I did The Truth in May challenge, I was a little shocked to hit 150 beers in a month, almost 5 per day. Hard to fathom for even me and it forced me to look at myself in the mirror a little harder going forward. 
  The last year or so I have been slowing down a little bit. Whether it was over-work or just plain beer burnout, I found myself starting later and consuming less...for the most part. There were still times I would go a little over the top and drink a few too many but those days are rapidly becoming an anomaly rather than a common occurrence. I find little joy in getting hammered and drinking just to drink, instead trying to only buy beers that I want to try and write about as a way to help me control my natural impulse to drink them all. Old favourites, such as Ransack the Universe, have been reduced to buying single cans so I am not tempted to pound a few after posting something on social media. Weird for anyone to do but I understand far more about my own predilection for over consumption now after 3 years exploring craft beer than ever before.

A good night but not every night

  I don't pretend to not be at least a mild alcoholic, addicted yet not overwhelmed. Perhaps a vague notion but as a person who knows all too well what it feels like to just let go and drown in a haze of booze for days on end, I feel different now. I have a fridge full of beer, 2 actually, and a cellar that is not unimpressive. I could easily get jacked many times a week without impacting my wallet too much but I really have stopped feeling the need or desire for that anymore. I detest feeling like garbage the day after and have little patience for myself when I step out of line when it comes to drinking. Finding a balance between a few and a few too many is at best a last ditch effort to avoid a return to complete drunkenness.
  I have become a little reclusive in the last year or so when it comes to festivals and hanging out. I began to see the social anxiety that plagued me from time to time become more prevalent when we were out and my natural tendency was to drink more to cover up the fact that I felt I didn't belong there. It is something I will have to address at some point and it only seems to bother me when I am at a gathering of a lot of people, like a beer festival. I quickly get overwhelmed and pursue beer after beer until I feel the buzz calming me down but that is often too late as I have passed the point of good decision making and leave my well trained control at the door.
  While it is easy to say I have a handle on my drinking, I am not naïve enough to think I am without fault or mistakes. I slip up. I make jokes about getting drunk and post encouraging things about booze on social media. I do it in fun, although with a grain of truth in there, part of me wishes life were a series of parties without consequence or work the next day to get in the way. My desire to drink has been met with a new respect for what I consume, a chance to enjoy without losing the battle for control. Having 2 or 3 pints and then putting the glass down for the night is easier and easier, often just 1 will be enough for me on most days. Do I want to just get hammered? I'd be lying if I said that kind of beautiful oblivion didn't have its appeal from time to time, but I desire it much less than I thought possible a few years ago.

Jaunty but mostly drunk

  As I continue to learn more about who I am while writing and creating with my beer, I lean hard on my words to keep me level. I post my beers on social media when I am having them for the same reason I have always talked about, it is my safety net to put the brakes on my impulse to consume more and more. The art of the picture has taken a bit of a back seat but the creativity has expanded with my poetry reappearing in my life when I needed it most. My love affair with beer will probably never end but it was in taking control of it that I found the words that I thought had abandoned me so many years ago return and bring me great joy. Finding other people who have done the same has given me even more reason to keep doing what I do. I want to see more voices and opinions about life, beer and what we make of it,
  See you on the other side, pints in hand.


Cheers!


Polk

Reflections on 1000 Days of Beer

 

Thinkin' about drinkin'

When I first started writing about my experiences with beer in 2015, chronicling the journey I was taking through the styles and flavours I had never experienced, I was wide eyed and optimistic. I curtailed my internal temptation towards negativity and focused instead on the positive and exciting things happening here in the Ontario Craft beer scene. I wrote about past mistakes and triumphs, rated and reviewed over 2600 beers and filmed more than 700 videos. New friends were made and some old ones lost, jobs have changed and even my outlook on life has been shaped by the liquid in my glass.

The olden days of Brava Light Polk

  It is not merely that I have drank and reviewed at least one beer every day for 1000 days, it is the very fundamental difference this community, it's purveyors and consumers alike, have had on me. I have changed, found solace once again in the expressing of myself through various mediums, all of them art to me on one level or another.  I was a smart kid but I didn't understand how to express myself once I left school. Adults, especially men, just get on with the business of living and providing, leaving behind the notion of sharing your emotions or thoughts with the world. Craft beer changed all that.

One of my first (and still) craft beer loves

  I found an outlet for talking about my past, addressing demons long held at bay by alcohol and poor decisions. I recognized the empty promises I made to myself and others about life and made attempts to change that as I went forward. To create, design or write about beer, sports, history or any of a myriad of subjects that interested me was almost as intoxicating as the beer I was drinking and no doubt the positive feedback and encouragement I found online was a factor in my continued pursuit.
  It hasn't been all sunshine and saisons though. I know drinking a beer everyday isn't a big deal, but the ones where that becomes four or five can come a little too frequent for my liking and I can acknowledge the fact that I am at the very least, a functional sort of alcoholic. Do I need a beer every day? I'd say the yearning to get hammered daily has dissipated somewhat in the last 1000 days and more and more it is but one beer pouring into my world each evening. But still there persists a thirst for the darkness I once had guiding me through life and I will have to stand on guard as long as I continue to use beer as a form of self expression.
  I don't miss any work, excuse myself from events because I can't drink there or use beer to mask anger or fear at the day. I know exactly what I was before this all started and have no desire to return to the days of blackouts, emptiness and the sad existence of a drunk. But still I want to enjoy at least a pint at the end of my day and that is probably not something normal folks do for as long as I have.
  My weight, such as it is, has fluctuated from a low of 270 pounds to the not so impressive 330 I'm packing now. Although I've cut far back from the days of pounding 12 tall boys of Old Milwaukee 5 or 6 days a week, I'm still taking on a lot of empty calories for a man in his mid 40's. No doubt my current job played a little in the weight gain, I've put on 30 pounds in the last year as my dinner hour pushed back the clock until almost 8 p.m. every night, combined with a pint or two a few hours before bed and little exercise. So that will be something I either address within my own sphere or I will have it forced upon me when the inevitable physical breakdowns happen. I've been scared of what my inability to lose weight will do to me as I get older and although I know I need to move more, our old pal anxiety can keep me on the couch longer than any beer could.
  I will say that being able to transform an Instagram account about beer with a funny name attached to it into a forum for mental health and expression has been my biggest surprise about the last 1000 days. I have learned that I am not alone and have built up a fine network of friends in real life and online that helps to prop me up when I cannot stand and leads me to light when I cannot see. This alone has been worth every pint poured or picture taken. The people who have reached out with their own stories and advice have been tremendous and I am grateful for that most of all.

It feels like art to me

  There have been bumps along the way, some people don't like how I rate beer, or talk about my life and the reality of what I am living. Some just don't like me and despite my incredibly insecure need to please everyone, I have learned to let them go. Life is too short to try and be everything to everyone. I will continue to share my beer and my stories with the world, poetry and videos will always make me feel better and I have no doubt in my ability to continue to seek answers for life's questions as I go along.
  I guess the entire 1000 days was a set up, a trip with peaks and valleys, a journey through life with beer as a catalyst to spark my creative side. I write and talk from a place of emotion, heart on my sleeve and a definite lean towards the positive of every situation. I feel the darkness just below the surface but it has weakened over time as I find more ways to express myself and release the emotions I kept bottled up for so long. I'm not sure this is something for everyone, but for me, this has been exactly what I needed to learn to live again.

1000 Days to find this beauty

  Will I not have a beer someday soon? The honest answer is I don't know but to really look hard at myself, I don't see why I should stop enjoying at least one pint a day. Maybe a few less days with more than one is in order, on this I can agree. But for now, I'll keep writing and drinking, sharing my thoughts with the world, one beer at a time.


Here's to another 1000 days!

Cheers!


Polk

Beer Festivals and Polk - A complicated relationship

  

I don't think there is any other way to do this. I mean I've known for a while my true feelings and kept them to myself. I tried and tried to get in line with popular thinking and experience the things like everyone else does. I want to be part of the good time gang but it is time to admit the sad truth about life as Polk.
  I don't like going to beer festivals.

  There I said it and I'm sure I will feel better at some point. I am not sure when this transformation happened, what kind of beer loving person wouldn't love seeing tens of great craft brewers in one place, hanging out with like minded people and experiencing all the frivolity a festival can bring? Apparently it's this guy and as I usually do, I have a theory.
  At the beginning, beer festivals were novel and fun, Kat would drive or we'd take a cab and get bombed on great and not so great beer, one 4 to 6 ounce sample at a time. I always went to every event with the intention of only sampling a few beers and maintaining my wits but ten minutes in and  I'm downing beer like Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas and trying to test every beer offered. It's loud and the lines may be long but all I can think of is pounding the next one, regardless of style or flavour profile.

  What makes me like this? I practice self control all the time at home and this should be no different except for one thing...I have to be social and that's when the anxious nervousness kicks in and I turn to the one thing I know can calm me down. Every sample alleviates my fears, bringing a false peace that exists only if my blood alcohol reaches a state of pure drunkenness. I have never gotten comfortable in relating to other people without alcohol and that is something I guess I should work on but I'm not sure if a hall full of $3 beers is a place to explore and confront the demons of anxiety.
  I don't like waking up the next morning feeling the effects of the previous evening. When I drink at home, I never go hard, preferring to enjoy every beer for what it is and not get hammered. I have no desire to see the return of the blackness and despite my best efforts, it always happens when I get together with a group of people and the beer flows. I chase inebriation in a crowd like a dog on a bone, my one skill as a former heavy drinker is the ability to put away a lot of beer faster than almost everyone else. The slurring words, half open eyes and poor motor skills are but a happy by product of a night filled indulging the worst of who I was and could be, I don't blame the festivals or the people I know, I just can't help who I am. That nagging voice comes creeping in whenever we hit the entrance and my self doubt about being able to handle a crowd without liquid courage roars into the front of my mind.

  It is funny that I spend 50+ hours a week working with the public in my job and at no point do I crave a beer. I mean, who wouldn't love a pint at lunch but I don't need alcohol to be able to do what I do. I talk to and deal with so many people and their problems every day and don't let it affect me but put me in a convention centre with 20 breweries and 5 friends and I'm looking for a funnel and a keg. It's not normal but it is what I deal with. Maybe it's the bro factor, no matter where we go, it's creeping its way into this craft beer space as the scene becomes more popular and mainstream. Or maybe it's that I can't really enjoy and experience each beer the way I've trained myself to that makes me lose control. Not staying focused and present in the moment and scrambling to get to the next one is not how I drink anymore nor do I have any desire to return to that life.
  It would be silly to say these festivals aren't about drinking a lot of beer. If you have 20 brewers show up with even 3 beers each that's 60 possible samples over perhaps 4 or 5 hours at best. After the 10th one, you're not really getting much out to them anymore except the ABV if you're being honest and that is fine for most people. They attend these events to have fun and let loose and I can support that whole heartedly. I will continue to promote and encourage people to go to these events but for me, right now, the cost in both money and my self worth is far too high a price to pay.
  The answers I seek about myself aren't always the ones I like to find but my pursuit of an honest and open life mean that is what I get sometimes. I don't want to give the impression that I don't like festivals, the people who attend them or the breweries who participate, I just am struggling with the person I become when I go. Not everyone has that kind of problem and I do love to see the pictures and stories my friends share when they go to various events around the world. I hope someday I will be able to come back in a better state of mind and without the anxiety driving me to forget everything I've worked so hard on and lean in hard on getting my drunken stupor on. Life is funny but not when your knee deep in a sea of trying to bullshit yourself about being in control.
  I'll be cheering you all on from the sidelines this year and hoping everyone has a safe and fun time at every event. The people who volunteer or work them are pretty awesome too and along with my extended beer family, those are the things  I will miss the most. But after a lot of time spent reflecting on my own mental health, I do need a break from that part of my craft beer life so that I can keep my sanity intact.
Have fun and remember to try something new when you get the chance, that's a pretty awesome part of any festival for me.


Cheers!
Polk
 
 


 

Frankie & Cat Stevens - When I was a Drunk in a Bar

 

Order another round Young Polk.

I used to frequent a local hole in the wall bar near my house when I was in my early 20's called Shuffles. The food was outstanding, homemade perogies and cabbage rolls with so many more amazing dishes I get hungry remembering them; it was a fine but simple place with the usual macro beers on tap and some decent but not pricey liquor. The proprietors were friendly people who remembered your name and were a part of why you stopped in as the cold beer you craved. Much like Cheers, it was indeed a place that felt like home and I would drop in almost every day after work to read the paper, have a little conversation and a $5 mini pitcher or 3 of whatever was on tap, more often than not Canadian or Coors light. It was when you could smoke in bars and the blue haze along with a juke box filled with classic rock, country and the odd 90's hit made it feel like a basement hangout, just with a motley crew of East End Hamilton's finest degenerates.
  Becoming a regular in a bar after my divorce caused me to move back home again at 23 wasn't what I had envisioned my life being but I quickly grew to love that feeling when I walked through the doors every day. A couple of my Uncles had long been patrons and many a night I spent at their sides, drinking a few pints and shots, listening to old tales and feeling like I had found my place. I was hurting bad inside from the break up but hadn't really been into drinking for so many years that I didn't see the slide begin. And when I did, not only was it too late, I didn't care any more.
  Many times we made last call and after the door was locked, dimmed the lights, pulled the shades and kept right on drinking. Like I said, we were degenerates but we gave a shit about each other and didn't want the party to end.
  One guy in particular still stands out in my memory and I am certain I am being nostalgic and seeing it with beer covered glasses but he was one of those people you don't forget. His name was Frankie and he was the most regular of the regulars, there when they opened, home for a meal and back again. Slumped against the bar in a legendary pose, smoke in one hand, beer or shot in the other, he would opine about any subject and I often spent my time listening to his glorious drunk talk about loves won and lost and life lived on the outside of normal. We would head deep into that zone only real drunks know where you think you're figuring it all out and wake the next day with the feeling that everything you said was bullshit but that didn't matter because we were getting close. Searching for answers at the bottom of the bottle and not finding them didn't mean we would give up, it meant we would get another bottle and look again. But what I remember most is the music he would pick as his time at the bar wound down, almost every day. 'Father and Son' and 'Wild World' from Cat Stevens are burned into my memory for life as both sides of the same coin. Struggling with the end of what was supposed to be the grand love story of my life, not knowing where to turn next and having little in the way of direction, I felt the loneliness and longing in each note he played. Drunk is no way to try to process life's big questions, but what did I know then. Looking back now with a lifetime of beautiful and sad memories I can feel a tear and a smile at the same time because I know it turned out okay even if I had no way of knowing it would.  
 

Still on rotation in my house.
All the feels.

These two songs always get me no matter what I am doing or feeling, they make me want to remember the times I forgot because I was so deep in the well of depression and self loathing but medicated by booze and beer to the point of pure inebriation. There exist no pictures from these "legendary" times as it was the mid nineties, long before digital cameras and smart phones had us documenting our entire existences. Part of me is grateful for that but there is a longing for a snapshot or two of those times just so I can prove they really happened.
  Frankie was probably a lonely man with lots of friends and I'd be lying if part of me doesn't wonder if I will ultimately end up on that same path. Searching for answers that I don't even know the questions to while drinking myself into oblivion has some pull, even now after the last 3 years of trying to calm that beast inside me. I've worked hard to leave that guy behind me but when the stress of everything life throws at you points you to the bottle and you know it will make you feel good, even temporarily, that's hard to say no to. Even knowing the problems don't go away and in fact could be made worse by drowning them in drink doesn't faze the dark Polk that I know lurks down inside me.
  Choosing life and knowing I don't want to go back to being that guy again has to be a conscious decision. I ponder every beer I drink and try to enjoy what it brings to the glass without pounding it in search of the darkness again. I miss my bar fly days but only in that way we all look back on the simpler times when a beer was a beer and we drank because that was what you did, feelings were for wimps and smokes were cheap. It wasn't better, but it just was who we were and what we knew. Things are different now but part of me does long for a time when I didn't care because it was so much easier to just let go and get bombed.
  I'm not looking to recreate my youth, just ruminating about the times I was so close to just letting my life slide into the haze because it is floating in the ether of my mind and won't let go until it is written. I don't hide behind the booze or drugs, I bring that beast into the open and expose it to the light to kill it and take back my power over what leaves me powerless. It's a good day when I stay in control and the more of them I have, the more I want. Moderation is my watchword now and with a little luck and some attention to the triggers that drive me to over consume I may not end up that old guy at the end of the bar playing songs to bring back the memories only to drown them in my glass.


Cheers.


Polk

Yes, I am.

   Let's talk a bit today about something I hear a lot of as I wander through life, one beer at a time.
  Am I an alcoholic?
  The short answer is yes, I am most definitely a booze hound, albeit a very functional one who works 50 plus hours a week and knows when and where it is appropriate to drink up. But nonetheless the truth is what it is.

  The long answer is also yes, but much more complicated and involves going back and then forward in my life. My first exposure to alcohol was like most kids with sneaking sips of my dad's beer and finding it skunky, bitter and gross. Mind you, it was probably Labatt's 50 or Molson Canadian and I was a kid who lived for Coca-Cola in my glass, so it was a very typical reaction. Moving to my later teenage years, it became about the most bang for your buck and for me that was hard liquor, the stronger and cheaper, the better. When splurging I would go for Jack Daniels, but to be honest, we would drink anything we could get someone older than us to buy and that meant discount beers, wine or even Baby Duck "champagne". Seriously, we didn't care as long as it got us destroyed and made the party's better.  Well, drunk better, which often involved puking in the sink on a load of clean dishes (Sorry about that) or wandering off into the night at full tilt to drink in the wild like a bunch of hobos if no ones parents were going away for the weekend. It wasn't something we did all the time, mostly because of access and lack of money, but we looked forward to pounding alcohol any time we could in order to look cool or grown up. If 17 year old me could see my beer fridge or liquor cabinet in the house I own now, he'd be pretty damn proud of what we have. He was also sometimes a self centred arsehole who did whatever he wanted most of the time too, so take that with a grain of salt.

I still have no idea what the hell I was doing in this photo

  Experimenting with drugs was never really a big thing for me, I tried a bunch, did not like them and couldn't afford or be bothered to seek them out most of the time. So it was with the Beer Store and occasionally the Liquor store that I found my joy. Even as my paycheques went up, my ability to drink better booze didn't. Buck a beer came to Ontario and that was good enough for me as I hit my prime drinking years. The occasional case of MGD or Stella to feel fancy as the years went on I just kept buying the cheapest beer I could find until I hit the very bottom with a multiple year run of Brava Light. It was the most flavourless beer I have ever had but I could chug 6 of them very quickly and it did the job. It was never about anything but getting hammered, so it did what it was supposed to do.

Fancy beer at Christmas 2014

  As I grew older and acquired the trappings of adult life, the car, house, marriage and the like, beer was always there. Mixed drinks because we wanted to try something new, Polar Bears a particular favourite as the crème de Menthe and crème de Cocoa gave you a peppermint patty kind of taste and the booze got you drunk. Parties almost every weekend, big ones, small ones, celebrations, commiserations, birthdays, pre birthdays and Drunksgiving or any other reason I could invent to get other people to drink with me so I wouldn't feel alone in my stupor. We would pack the yard and house with people and let the libations flow. Good times and bad were had but in the end it always came down to that next beer and the blackout that followed.

Look at all the class in this sink

  This pattern existed for a long time, almost 2 decades before everything changed and I've already documented (many times) how craft beer and social media have altered the course of my life and given me a way to be creative again with writing, videos and photos. But in the truth of my growing and letting go of the ways of my 24 crushing younger self is the fact that I still like to drink a few pints every day. It has become increasingly rare for me to over indulge and I don't like when it happens, so I work hard to keep it in control. But still, I love that first sip, the changing styles I can have and the fun in talking and sharing beer with the world. The parties are done because I can't go back to who I was and people often don't understand the change but mostly because those situations always seem to drive me back to a place where I can't stop. It's a lot quieter but the beer is better and I can wear my sweats.

A much better beer fridge in 2016

  I imagine I got off topic as we went along today but it is the destination I am after and I usually take the long way round. Drinking every day, even a pint or two, shouldn't count as being an alcoholic and I am sure my friends who drink a glass of wine 5 or 6 times a week understand that. The changing nature of what beer is as craft gains market share will hopefully help to switch the perception from party to enjoying and if we treat it as such, that will help matters greatly. But it isn't that I have a pint every day that makes me an alcoholic, it is the fact that I want to have more, a lot more, every time and it is only because I make the conscious decision to not have more that I don't go backwards again. I acknowledge that I have an issue and I actively work to keep myself in check. It is easier now that I don't go out much, crowds make me nervous and I turn to multiple pints to calm my anxiety and I hope as I keep learning about myself I can even get that problem under control.

 I live my life in a quieter way now and try to be a kind person to all I meet. I do indeed enjoy a few pints every night and that one thing brings me joy no matter the day that proceeded it. Excessive drinking is all but a memory and I hope to keep it that way, but I must remain aware at all times what I am drinking and why. I don't drink because I am angry or pissed off with someone or something, that negates the enjoyment and takes me where I don't want to go. So I will admit to my alcoholism and remain comfortable with who I am, life is too short to worry what other people think anyway.
 I need a beer...

Cheers.


Polk

Do we have a Problem?

  Tap takeovers, festivals, special releases and events of that nature have been exploding in the last year as Craft Beer in Ontario hits new highs in sales and prominence. We can find something happening almost every night if we look around and it is hard to miss out on anything our friends go to. But is there an underlying problem that we are ignoring and covering up by claiming we are drinking better beer? Do we have a quiet issue that remains unacknowledged because the community doesn't want to talk about it? I'm probably the last guy who should discuss excessive consumption but maybe I'm the perfect one to do just that.
  As chronicled in my Truth in May and the follow up, 150 - The Real Truth in May, I tracked every beer I drank for a month and was shocked at just how much I had consumed. It was far more than I had envisioned and in the next few months, I took greater care to slow down and consume less, not stopping, but definitely no where near that much. As I look around my social media, I notice there are an awful lot of folks who are just like me, posting one or more beers every day and being fine with it. We got this under control we say, no drunken stupidity coming out of here and look at how I don't drink a dozen MGD's anymore. But is it all a shaky premise built on a façade that is at best pretty loose with the facts.
  Reading back on those two posts, I can see a distinct chip on my shoulder as I tried to justify a really ridiculous amount of beer for anyone in a month. Regardless of your situation in life, 5 beers a day isn't a thing you should be okay with. Last night I had just one and it was a little weird, I kept wondering if I should just have another to take the edge off the day, troubling as that thought was. It took a bit more discipline to keep myself from heading outside and another round.  I was honestly struggling with it and as I look at my friends, in real life and online, I know many of them are in the same boat, consuming almost daily with a wink and a nod about sharing our love of this community. But perhaps we are missing the bigger, more shady picture that is developing.
  Addiction is very real and I have no doubt that it plays a large factor in what some of us are doing. Chasing that darkness is perhaps not at the forefront any more but is drinking two huge ABV barley wines really different from pounding a sixer of macro lager? I would have to argue no and am the prime example of how we justify a few pints a day by talking about it and posting a picture on social media. I have no doubt that I have a need for beer, I think about it way more than I should and although I don't let it interfere in my work life, anything after hours is fair game. Frequent day drinking is something we joke about, but I see it often enough to wonder what is really going on.
 We know what beer does, regardless of its' origins and to try to be cute about why we drink is part of the problem. We want to engage other people, go and do fun things with our friends and try the new and exciting creations of our favourite craft brewers. But I have begun to wonder if this pursuit of the pint allows some of us to be alcoholics with a good cover; I can take great pictures and put words to them as well as talk to anyone about my love of beer but do I use that to allow me to drink more than I should? Is there a rush when you get "likes" or comments on your latest post? Do we begin to create things so we can get more people following along and gain some sort of prominence in the craft beer world? People are paying actual money for fake followers to help promote their "brand", which boggles my mind. The end game is always personal promotion but once again are we overlooking our addiction for the false feeling of being on the inside. Everyone always wants to know the scoop on new releases or special things their local brewer is up to and being part of what is now the cool thing has it's own feeling of superiority and exclusivity. For most of us, we are just regular working stiffs, so getting to feel like we matter and have a stake in this burgeoning world gives us something that may be missing from our everyday lives. We cannot overlook the factor getting access to things others can't plays into all this. It's human nature to want to feel special and when you become a grown up that is something that rarely happens. Being a craft beer fan allows us to join a unique club, one that is growing everyday.
  The long term impact of Craft beer is mostly positive. Smaller breweries are more involved at a local level in community work and it is pretty awesome to be making new friends as an adult through sharing our favourite thing. They provide jobs, fun experiences and a chance to explore things we could never have imagined from our beer. But it should not cloud over the very real addiction and mental health issues that still are with us because it is, at the very end, alcohol. The dangers exist no matter the way in which it is made and some people cannot help but over consume because of their personal mental health issues.
 This is not to say that there isn't an inherent difference with Craft Beer, I believe there is something that can help us to curb our consumption when we really start to experience each beer for what it is. My concern is that some of us are getting our fill and then going over the top without seeing a problem. I don't come home to a fridge filled with macro lagers and want to get hammered. It's become a more nuanced approach to consumption and I believe in some way that this community has helped me to change and grow in my personal approach to my beer. I just think it's time to have the conversation and make sure we listen when someone needs help. I know I have problems with limits and will take care to continue to work on myself, but I also know that my world is indeed different than it was just 2 years ago. I can have just one beer and not feel angry. I don't actively try to get drunk to hide from my problems and want to be a better person who is engaged in life and not slurring his way into an early grave. Should I quit drinking altogether? I honestly don't know, I hope I have grown enough to recognize the nature of every beer I drink and my relationship to it. But the question persists.
  I don't have all the answers, but I know it's time we stopped pretending there isn't a problem. I want us to be a better community of drinkers and help those who need it. So think about what your consuming and try to make moderation part of your evening, the beer tastes better when you take it one at a time.


Polk

150 - The Real Truth in May

150.

  The number of beers I drank during the Truth in May was just that...almost 5 per day. That seem like a lot to you? Because it seems like way more than I thought I consumed when I set out to document what was a craft beer lover who maybe tipped back a few more than the average person. I didn't or couldn't imagine that as the final number because I was convinced I was having one or two most nights with the occasional evening of 5 or 6. What I found was as the month went on that most were 4 or 5 and some came in at 9...even with sharing, that many beers more than once in a blue moon is troubling to say the least.

Beer No 1 just after midnight on May 1st

  I only had one evening where I would say I chased the darkness and given that it was at the Albino Rhino beer fest with a whole whack of my friends, I have no issue with that particular day, even though it topped at least 12 pints all in. We were sharing beers and having a great time doing it, nights like that are few and far between for me, so I again am okay with it.

A Rhino and a Polkaroo!

  The other ones though are the ones I want to talk about here.

  I like beer, that is pretty easy to see. I've always liked it, for different reasons, but historically for how it made me feel and as a social lubricant. When I fell into craft beer, it opened my eyes to what I was really doing with my macro loving overindulgence and I could feel the brakes come on and my consumption plummeted. I went from 3 or 4 24's a week to a much lower count, albeit with higher alcohol contents and bigger formats. But I wasn't getting hammered every night and that was something really positive. That continued through to the Truth in May, I still drank less than I used to but more than I thought I did.

Posted 3 times during the Month. A slow sipper I usually kept to myself.

  One thing about my consumption that I have struggled with has been that I didn't feel I was drinking for the wrong reasons. I was enjoying every sip, writing and talking to my virtual and real life friends and doing all the stuff I had to do in my normal, non beer

life. I went to work every day, did my chores at home, went out a few times when the budget allowed it and generally lived my life in a positive and mindful manner. So how to bring that together with the fact that by any definition my drinking is both binge and alcoholic in nature when I don't feel that way personally. Craft beer and the community of people I have met have brought me much happiness and a renewed sense of purpose. Writing about beer every time I drank one and finding a picture was challenging but fun and I was glad to share the boring, mundane late night pint as much as that special edition Imperial IPA that I go all out to showcase. Am I making excuses to deflect from the fact that I drank 150 beers in a month and cannot stop on my own accord? I hope not and that is why its taken me a week to finally sit down and start to comprehend what it all means.

One of my favourite beers from May. So good.

  I started this post 6 times, each one different and none giving me satisfaction. That you are reading this means I found my voice and it both soothes and troubles me. To any normal person I am an alcoholic, a high functioning one, but still alcohol dependant. I cannot dispute that fact, I want to have a few beers every day but not to the detriment of my necessary tasks. I could not imagine drinking before work or getting smashed every night. It doesn't fit in with my life now but I do want that new or favourite beer and I enjoy writing about them several times a day. I discovered that it was those validations from social media that were driving a lot of my drinking. I always drank 4 or 5 a night but would save a few to post the next day so I could spread them out over a longer period. So I didn't drink more to post it, I merely posted it when I drank it and saw the truth in pictures every day. It bothered me a bit but didn't stop me in the least. That I didn't drink too much was always my argument and with every beer that went on Instagram, that façade was crumbling.

  Working in the service industry for 30 plus years certainly drives a good part of my love of beer and its' calming nature. I do not love what I do but it pays well and I am far past the age where I search for validation from my employment. When you're a blue collar working man, you care about doing a good job for a salary that pays the bills and maybe a little extra. I work to live but I do not live to work. Let me win the lottery and I will be the same guy but way happier. So my drinking is a reflection of a life in service to others and a way to let go of the anger that must be reined in when people treat you like a piece of furniture. Abuse of service people is a whole other topic and the stories I have from the trenches would make you question your humanity. People are good but the ones who we often spend the most time dealing with would make a teetotaller drink...a lot.

A few new breweries opened in Hamilton during the Month. Merit was first.


  Another large and usually quiet reason I do what I do is that we don't have any children. While we wish we did, and honestly every few days I wonder if we gave up too soon, the fact is that after work, I have absolutely zero responsibilities. I have to do my household maintenance and cook the occasional meal, but in terms of things I must do, there is nothing. I don't give in to familial guilt about things and without children we don't get invited to or feel comfortable attending many of the kid centric events that surround people with large families. Our friends are now largely craft beer folk so events we do with them tend to exacerbate rather than alleviate my consumption. But the very simple fact that when I have done what I need to for survival, I am free to do or not do anything I want. It is freeing, a little selfish and the truth in my life. So I have to admit that it is a large part why I can enjoy so many beverages, especially on my days off. Mow the lawn, clean the house, do a little laundry and then the rest of the day is mine. I can't apologize for a life that I stumbled into and I have no doubts that if there were children in our lives, I would not be doing the things I do now. At least, I can hope.

Fairweather Brewing in Hamilton opened just before the end of May.

  So with this long and meandering piece have I learned anything about what last month meant to me? I think so, I understand that my child free lifestyle has allowed me to claim a future that is focused on myself and those I choose to let in my life. My work schedule of long shifts, working most weekends and with the public leaves me feeling a need for a few pints after a long day, no harm in that on my part. I like the way 2 or 3 drinks make me feel and the release they give me, but I don't want to escape into the blackness that I used to chase. I understand that drinking 5 beers a day is not normal, not necessarily healthy or productive, but I see no reason to stop. I will make a better effort to find something to occupy my time but creating art with beer pictures and getting to tell stories of my life are important to me and my mental health. I am a caring and loyal person but I guard my free time jealously and plan for days when  I have almost no interaction with other people because I can. I feel a lot of sadness that I will never be someone's dad and want nothing more than to see that change, but it will not. I will work harder in my job, more hours, stress and I will be fine with that because it will give me the money and freedom to do the things I want when I am not there. I do not hate my life. I only get one, so I value every moment and day.

Beer #150 for the Month.

 Do I drink too much was the question I asked and the answer is way more complicated than I could have imagined. Yes, by every conventional standard, I do qualify as a heavy drinker. Clinically I am an alcoholic and if labels make people happy, feel free to call me that. Do I crave beer at the expense of living my life and doing the things that I need to do? Not at all and the knowledge that I have the ability to limit what I consume is something I probably need to spend more time on. I love my family and friends and want them to be happy and successful but because my path is now non traditional and child free, I will have to find out where that leads me. I do drink too much but in my life, that's what I do. I was for many years a person who put everyone else first and while I have wonderful memories, I plan that the second half of my (hopefully) long life is when I learn to say no and live a little more for me. The craft beer revolution has found me a way to express myself that I thought was lost forever and given me opportunities for adventures I didn't know existed. My own personal evolution as the Drunk Polkaroo has given me a platform from which to help others and myself. I want to think I learned something but the real truth from May is that I am having a good time and with everything else in the world feeling like it is headed to hell in a handbasket, my enjoying 5 beers a night and talking about them is the least worrying thing in my life.

  So thank you to everyone who followed along, hung out for a few pints during the month or dropped in from time to time to see where I was. It wasn't my intention to drink 150 beers in a month, but having done so, I must accept what it says about my life. I wish I could say I will drink less, but I will never lie to you my friends, Let's just say I am more aware of what is going into my glass and I am looking forward to a bright future with tales and great times with more of you.

Raise your glass and your standards,
One Beer at a time.

Cheers!

Polk


The Numbers from the Truth in May
76 Different Breweries.
(W means I worked that day, O means Day off)
1st - 5 W
2nd - 4 O
3rd  - 4 W
4th - 4 O
5th - 1 W
6th - 2 W
7th - 2 W
8th - 6 W
9th - 4  O
10th - 3 W
11th - 7 O
12th - 4 W
13th - 4 W
14th - 3 W
15th - 5 W
16th - 4 W
17th - 4 W
18th - 6 W
19th - 4 W
20th - 6 W
21st - 4 W
22nd - 9 O
23rd - 7 O
24th -  2 W
25th - 5 O
26th - 3 W
27th - 12 O
28th - 3 W
29th - 5 W
30th - 8 O
31st - 9 W

From drunken to Drunk - My Journey is not over.

I don't know if I've seen my rock bottom, but I sure as hell hope that I have. Broken hearts, crushed dreams and a future dashed against the rocks of reality have been with me many times over the years, mostly of my own doing. I've made impetuous decisions that altered the course of my life and suffered, at my own hands and actions, the results of not looking forward. It was never a conscious decision to throw so much of my life away, but I did it nonetheless. Entering my 20's without an anchor or a dream, I married a lovely lady despite the fact that we were not ready or good for each other. I thank my lucky stars that she was smart enough to cleave the knife on our ill fated journey early, that both of us have found happiness apart and now are friends with a history that brings smiles and not tears. I wandered from job to job, always with alcohol keeping my mind at ease about the fruitlessness of my empty life. Covering up the fact that my early promise of a life of substance was blown away by my lack of focus, addiction and apathy. It was always about today, to hell with tomorrow. I lived for that immediate satisfaction only several beers, shots or the occasional foray into something harder could bring and it is with some shame that there are large parts of my life I do not remember or have only the haziest recollections of.

Meeting Kathryn come at a time when my wheels were spinning and life had no direction. What was supposed to be a friendship blossomed and despite my continued troubles, she stood by me and our love grew. I wish the tale would take a turn for the better in that summer of 1997, but it still had miles to go and a darkness that had several shades of black to be added. Opening a business, getting married, buying a house and then trying to start a family brought some joy to my life, but still the rampage of alcohol abuse continued. Not all the time, not every day, but often enough that I developed and earned a reputation as a functional alcoholic. I never drove drunk, missed work or got into fights, but my lack of remorse for my actions is shameful for me to this day. Having found my niche as the party guy, I threw bigger and more drunken bashes, always focused on getting as much beer into me as possible, often more than a 24 in a single sitting. It was my only focus of any time alone to drink as many beers as I could before my body gave up and I would pass out, mind at rest but not at ease.

When you wake up and the thing you've built for over a decade is starting to come crumbling down around you and you have no idea why, it should be a sobering moment. Once again, I was not stopped by losing my way, even when financial ruin stared us in the face. The depression that had always been held at bay by alcohol, in a sense, came crashing down as I took a job that kept us in our home, but crushed what was left of my soul. Taken as a failure, I was treated as a liability but at least I could fill the roll of a simple line cook and pay the bills. The cheap beer continued to flow, only now it was every day and it was with purpose. That fleeting moment when the drunkenness took over the pain of my actions and I briefly felt a glimmer of joy, even though it was false.

While working 60 plus hours a week to keep the wolves at bay, I was certain I would die with a fryer basket and a beer in my hand. There was no hope, no future and as we had ended our pursuit of fertility treatments, no kids or family. It was then that Untappd came into my life and a world of new beer opened up. It isn't too much to say that this app changed my life, it literally did. I began to pursue the badges that you would receive for trying different styles of beer, for exploring new ones and leaving your everyday macros behind. I found a world of interesting flavours and people were waiting just outside my regular sphere and all it took was letting them in. I stopped pounding 8 or 10 beers every night and found my footing, scoring a better job and some self respect at the same time. For many of my old friends, my slow but steady transformation from drunken idiot to slow sipping craft beer lover was viewed with trepidation. many who knew my 20 plus years of self abuse could not believe that I would change for something as simple as better beer. I didn't for the longest time either, falling into a depression because I could no longer party like I used to but not really understanding that I didn't want to be that guy anymore. It has taken a long time for me to come to grips with my own past, to confront the demons I grew myself and to let go of my hate for myself for throwing away so much of my promise. I have had to leave some of my old life in order to grow a new one, many times I turn down invitations because I still have a weakness that can be hard to control if I begin to feel anxious. The old expectations are still there for so many who used to know me and now that I have turned the corner, I feel them looking at me as if I am a ghost of drunken Rob past.

The new friends that I have made because of the decision to begin writing about not only beer, but my life, have been a real blessing. They too appreciate the way craft beer has changed our lives and we all seem to share similar stories about walking that fine line between happy drunk and the gutter at one time or another in our lives. I am grateful to anyone who has ever been part of this life I've led and while I am feeling everyday more hopeful for the future, I know there are those who will never see me for anything but an drunken asshole. I cannot change the past, I can only acknowledge my roll in my own destruction, apologize and hope that they will come to see that it is indeed a new day in my world. I may take a bit of ribbing because I wax poetic about craft beer so much, but it is not being facetious to say that this community and the people in it have helped to save my life from what was sure to be an early and painful ending.

Writing about my beer on Instagram brought me into another level of interaction with the world and it has spawned into what you all now know as the Drunk Polkaroo blog, videos and well, adventures. I now use craft beer to enjoy, not escape life.

I have written about parts of this many times, my life seems to go in circles and I have learned that I cannot ignore something that is in my head, demanding to be written. I no longer fear the past or the future and despite losing so many years to depravity, excess and hubris, I want to believe that this is just the beginning of the second (or third) act of my life. There is so much to explore and if it takes me the rest of my days, I am going to pursue a life of passion, love and honesty about what I want.

Raise your glass and your standards,

One Beer at a time.

Cheers.

Rob