Interviewing musicians can be insightful, but some questions can only be answered by the bottom of a bottle. We caught up with our old friend Mr. John Barleycorn, AKA whiskey, to contemplate the great mystery of life itself.
Our interview began when my novella was rejected for the third time and all of my friends were too “busy” to hang out. Whiskey showed up looking mature and pristine with it’s trademark ol’ timey font and fancy-looking cellophane-wrapped tight and neat over the cork.
Very quickly into the interview, the cork was out of the bottle and whiskey and I tackled some pretty heavy shit.
The Hard Times: Well, just fuck me then, right?!
Bottle of Whiskey: (Palpable silence)
Yeah, no, it’s fine. I just… Won’t be a writer! Fiiiiine!
(Silence)
I mean I guess I’ve just been wrong my entire fucking life, no big deal!
(Silence)
I mean what in the fuck is the point of it all, huh?! What’s it all about?!
Whiskey remained tight-lipped for some time. About four shots worth if I recall. Eventually, I realized the bottle was more forthcoming if I put my hand up to it in the shape of a mouth and did, like, a voice.
I just think like, it’s all bullshit, you know? Like you get up in the morning, you work hard, and it’s bullshit.
Hey, come on man, you’re just feeling down. You’ll bounce back!
You’re right, Whiskey. I feel better already! Hey, I bet you I can run straight through that wall into the living room.
Boy, that sounds dangerous!
Nah fuck it, these are thin walls. I can make it! It’ll be just like a cartoon!
Hell yeah dude, let’s take some more shots and go for it!
I got renters insurance, fuck it!
After doing my best to dress my wounds, whiskey suggested that we would get a better interview if we did it with his on-again-off-again creative partner, cocaine. Unfortunately, we tried every number we could think of and soon accepted that cocaine was nowhere to be found. Whiskey did spend the rest of the interview accompanied by half an edible I forgot I had and some expired Sudafed.
Right, okay, what were we talking about again?
We were trying to decide between calling our ex or getting some pizza on uber eats.
Right! And why just those two things?
Because you are massively depressed!
Haha! You’re such an asshole whiskey!
I love you man!
I love you too, let’s get a beer!