The Tao of Twitter, and Beer

The Tao Of Twitter, by Mark Schaefer was a pretty good book for one with such a narrow focus.  I did not have a Twitter account before the class, but knew what it was generally about.  What I did not know was how useful Twitter could be.  I can now keep up with hundreds of breweries all over the country with just one site.  That wealth of knowledge should not be overlooked.  Constant updates about what is going on in the world of brewing, yes!

If I had a new product Twitter would be the first place that I would promote it.  There are literally thousands of people in every category watching for new ideas, products, clubs, parties, shows, benefits, and movements on this one free outlet.  This is the aspect of the book that is really useful.  Mr. Schafer walks you through the steps you have to take to be successful in almost any aspect of Twitter.  From the novice to the expert there is something to learn.  I want everyone to listen to my ramblings, I want the world to hear what I have to say, what do I need to do? Oh, page 38, Finding Followers. 

These tips and tricks are really what help.  I could have probably figured this whole thing out in the short span of a year (that would never have happened, I get bored with these things), but this book took less than a few hours to read.  Bam, instant expert!  Initially I was, admittedly, lost.  I floundered about, gurgling in the beer taps of Twitter like Friday night at the dive bar.  I spent hours trying to follow every link and look at every picture; although I was gaining information, it was not working for me.  I was not adding to the conversation, just scanning the horizon.  The twenty minute rule is one I think I need to follow more rigidly.  If you are under a time constraint you will use your time more wisely.  Now I put things out there from time to time.   I have even joined in on discussions that started with Twitter, now and again, go @teampbr. 

Thank you @Markschaefer, for you excellent book

Half Website Fake Brewery

Want to see a half finished website for something fake?  That's on my bucket-list twice.  Well put down your parachute pack and read this.

http://nhbeer.weebly.com/

Remember go easy, it's just a wee baby of a website for a fake brewery, but who knows, one day this could be awesome.

Why Drink Anything Else

Beer, the best drink in the world. Period.
If you ever think, "Wow, this beverage is refreshing," and it's not a beer, then you could do a little better.
This is why I would like to open a brewery.  Not because beer is so awesome but for the greater good.  The way I see it the more breweries there are the more beer there is.  This is in direct link with supply and demand; the more beer there is, the cheaper it is.  I want every man, woman, and child (well over 21 year old child) to have delicious beer.  Breweries are really a blood-line to the new America. An America where foreign people don't scoff at our beer.  An America where people drink beer with lunch again.  An America where the carbohydrates are left in beer because they taste good.  Beer, helping America, helping you.    

Spring Libations

“Artfully crafted,” he gasped, the words escaping as the refreshing sigh following a long sip on a hot day, “sublime, subtle, everything you could ask for in a high quality brew.”

Smoke drifted from the nostrils of his companion, slow and meandering, catching the glimmering light of the late spring afternoon as it coiled towards the ceiling.  “Hopped just right, smooth, golden and drinkable; yes sublime, that sums it up.”  A thoughtful silence fell, or rather floated down and moments crawled by noticed only by the clock.

Photo by Allison Swift Zercher
http://www.snippetsfromsuburbia.com

“Have you been stirring the kettle, it should be almost done steeping.”  Attention redirected itself; eyes shifted following the smoke and came to rest on a giant silver pot.  The reflections of two men, distorted by the contours and smudges, vibrated seeming to boil along with the fragrant liquid hidden within.  Movements were natural, unpracticed but controlled, as the lid was removed and placed on the top of the giant pot bellied stove.  Cigarette left to burn the companion peered over the rim, took in the pungent sweet aroma of the malts and removed a muslin bag full of spent grains.

“A great sweet wort almost the color of the sun coming through that window there.”  We should remember that when we name it.”  The other not really listening as he brought the liquid to his lips, cooled it, and slurped it cautiously.  Looking down at the empty bowl of the spoon a noticeable excitement came over him.  “This is the reason for alchemists and witches, the cauldrons places on the fires of the past.”  The companion stopped dripping the grain bag on the floor and took a sip from the spoon.    

The effect of two people content in their work and the languid affects of late spring air combined themselves, controlled the hands of these two half hypnotized brewers.  Hops were added to the fragrance wafting through the room and they settled at the table, glasses refilled.  “Watch the twilight glowing over the hills; growing like the head on this fine ale.”

The sun rose the next morning clearly illuminating bottles, waiting patiently, maturing into the next nights libations.  “This new ale,” spoken through a bluish cloud, “it will be our finest yet, a testament to the spring, a joyous celebration of the coming summer and a pleasure to drink, I think.”

“The correct glassware, it would seem, an imperial pint,” the sound of clinking glass, the slow pouring, and the hiss of carbonation leaping free, “cheers to the next brew, and all our others to boot.”  Condensation snaked down the sides forming rings on the table as the flavors were analyzed.  “Our best yet, a majestic brew worthy of the finest taprooms.”  Two glasses drained, and then full again, then left half full; two rings lacing the sides.  “The recipe, my friend, for the books and the future.”  Pockets turned inside out, drawers emptied, but the two sitting had in their hands only the glinting of sunlight off of their beers.     

Wishes

With the blowing out of candles on your birthday cake you also got a special present.  Every child knows that extinguishing those tiny fires meant that something was owed to you; this was a chance to extend an invisible filament to the sky and by virtue of the date get anything that you want.  You live in apartment in the Bronx, here’s your pony.  You have the IQ of a supporting cast member on Yo-Gabba-Gabba; sure you can be an astronaut.  Outlandish, bizarre, trivial, exciting, and practical anything imagined was explored through wishes.  Looking back nostalgically I miss the wishes.  Not only have I lost the taste for cake and opt for something more pie-like, but in this transition I have lost my once yearly mental transmission of desires.  During the amnesty of my teen years wishes came at much more crucial times.  I was too cool for birthdays, but on these days there was another reason to point my wants skyward and hope.  Under the backdrop of flashing blue lights and the instant doom of the darting spotlight wishes would come quickly and naturally.  If I get away this time, can I have a pony, and also I will not do anything wrong for the rest of my life.  Now that I rarely have to chat with the boys in blue, candles don’t stand up in pie, and the Patriots are out of the running for another title, I infrequently wish.  I wish I wished more.