On Fridays, we wear black: sugared patchouli, nag champa, black leather, and clove.
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Fellas, is it gay to have a skeletal system? Short answer: YES! Because the human wrist was undeniably made to flap and go “enh.”
There are many theories about the historical origin of the so-called “limp wrist” gesture, which has bedeviled arbiters of masculine presentation since at least the ancient Roman times. So when we defiantly flop our phalanges, we’re reclaiming a time-honored tradition! And letting our skeletons do what they do most naturally: camp it up.
Did you know the human wrist is made up of eight small bones, plus the forearm’s radius and ulna? Factor in the four small ones that comprise that lightly extended pinkie finger, and the number of bones required to execute this delicate maneuver add up to FOURTEEN. No wonder we’re always so tired.
So defy nature if you truly must, but never forget: when bones are all that’s left of you, the wrists will be extra floppy. And we think that’s worth celebrating while you’re still alive!
Sweet 13-year aged patchouli, peru balsam, white oakmoss, French lavender, spikenard, bourbon vanilla, and sugar cane.
Art by Drew Rausch
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, ‘mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
– William Cullen Bryant
Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.
A triple shot with extra drizzle to keep you vamping till the sun comes up.
The bubbles from this calabaza go straight to your cabeza.