Teej's Secret Box

10 NW 12th Ave
Portland, OR 97209

Snuggled to the west side of a building overshadowed by Powell’s Bookstore, this little gem of a place is not quite as little as one would think. Henry’s Tavern have a extensive selections of beers on tap. One by one, they are all lined up in two rectangle spaces in a surrounded bar, never repeating itself despite some option’s popularity. Altogether, over a hundred are locked and loaded — ready to be fired upon a wide variety of glasses.

To settle for a Budweiser in this place would be high treason, even though that’s also offered on tap. It would be a tragedy to journey all this way to this pub, only to sample the most common of beer that you can get from your local lonely bar.

The charm of this tavern is added by some delicious modern technology. Appreciating your beer would be difficult if you are forced to quickly quaff the brew before it get nigh spoiled by the warmth of dozens of jolly drunks in the area. Henry’s decided to provide a way to counteract this sin of rushing through the latest masterpiece by offering a “frozen drink rail.”

This is your refrigerator writ in a very long strip around the bar, layered with frozen humidity on top, like an old fashioned fridge without a dehumidifier. Laying your fresh beer onto this platform gives the beer precious moments to remain tight, cold, and ready to go down smoothly (or harshly if that is your forte) directly to your overworked liver.

I chose to poison the liver with Celis White Ale, while my friend pulls out the jackhammer, pounding a wide variety of stouts in a quest for the mana of the goddess (along with that cute waitress’ phone number.)

Friend, you say? Why yes — he is an old college friend, who also went on to seize a career on the road. We bumped into each other (or rather he chose to brought his presence to my attention.) Having not seen him for over a decade, I was quite leery of whom he may be, but as my overworked brain kicked into the proper gears, and restored some deep dark memories from the tape archives, I realized that he was my father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate.

Actually, no. He was also a lab assistant at RIT, and a slave for a former roommate and a very good friend of mine.

The entire night we spent quaffing toxic brews, the tales flew high and wide, and it was a jolly night by all. A perfect place, and a perfect reason. Henry’s Tavern is such a place.

One must remember,
They are all connected, these cards.
Whether those bonds may be near or far.

Sometimes these links can not be formed.
Rushing will yield less of a success.
Left stuck, and never to be twined.

Occasionally will they all bind,
Through patience and perseverance,
The rewards are to be blessed.

This week has been very tough for me, emotionally.

My friend claims that we are going through some kind of an annual thing where we have a “super-PMS” or something, and we become introspective, and even somewhat depressed.

On Monday and Tuesday, I was so incredibly depressed, with a severe pounding headache, which I am growing concerned about. These headaches would pierce the upper-left area of my skull, just above my left eye socket. It felt as if I could reach in above my eye to rub whatever it may be that’s ailing.

Am I over-watering myself, or under-watering? Is my effort to wean off caffeine causing a major problem with my health? Should I be drinking ’sports’ drinks — something with at least some minerals to help supplement the water? My piss have been mostly clear, indicating that I am over-watered, yet sometimes drinking caffeine doesn’t minimize the headaches.

I also had a very deep and vivid dream on Tuesday morning, of losing a … friend that was a big part of my life, yet could not remember. I asked my best friend about it. She came from the left field with questions about my mother, which I did not understand at the time. This person in my dream was a kindred spirit, a partner, or something. We were both in our youth, and we were not together sexually. Unlike my other dreams, when it progressed that way, it moved on.

The feeling I had when I woke up was that I missed my opportunity, somehow. It was as if I had a single shot to meet this person meant to be with me, and yet our inactions are not making it happen somehow. I could not even think of a person whom it was.
I understand now why my friend mentioned my mother.

It is the very first year I have forgotten.

Tuesday was the seventh anniversary of the passing of my mother. She died of sarcoma on that day.

I am still not convinced that the dream was of my mother. However, I am very convinced that my emotional state of those few days this week, was not only of me feeling my own latent loss, but also of my friend’s loss — her brother was buried on the same day my mother passed away. I wonder if I also felt my sister’s emotions, and my father’s. I wonders if I was feeling others mourning on that day.