medalla light: the drink of the gods

because I have been on the road for a couple of weeks, and may have a few more weeks to go, I have been living on three things:
1. Paul Auster
2. Medalla Light beer
3. rice

on #1: After reading a bunch of Paul Auster's novels, I decided to purchase an anthology that contains his prose. It includes 2 of his autobiografies, a few critical essays, thoughts on current events, and an analysis of why New York = USA, among a bunch of other things.
reading this entire collection in 3 days taught me one thing: I love Paul Auster because his life, while on the surface completely different from mine, contains every single theme i have ever grappled with in my own life. his pain permeates to his fiction, and once you read what his life has been like, suddenly you get it.
Auster has changed my mind about everything.

on #2: Medalla is a beer i have never encountered anywhere outside of Puerto Rico. it is light, watery, and kinda tastes like pee. however, on a beautiful warm day, perhaps after the beach (or in it, whatever), there is nothing better than sitting with your old friends and reminiscing over an ice-cold Medalla (comically known by locals as "Metralla," a word that is not a compliment). it reminds me of sneaking my first sip of beer (Schaeffer) when I was about 8. it reminds me of high school and beach days and better times. it reminds me of home. plus i bet no one has ever romanticized Medalla as much as my friends and i have this week.

on #3: my love affair with rice is very similar to how a person feels when they travel with their own pillow. rice is home. rice is family. rice is what makes me a stereotype and what reminds me of the days when my mother and father had their health and happiness. my house was always full of people waiting for my mom's world-famous rice and beans. i stood by waiting for the steak. bloody rice and rare beef, that's my thing.