The Many Ways to Tell a Story

Of all the things to write about, I’ve decided to keep things MacDowell-related for now. I’m mentally still there anyway thanks to continual contact with my two new friends, the super-talented gay duo Brian Selznick and David Serlin, who were smart enough to ask for an eight-week stay.

I’ve been thinking about all the different ways to tell the story of my stay in heaven. Rather than choose one, I’m going to attempt them all.

Version #1: MacDowell As Told Through Bottles of Whiskey

Most stays at MacDowell involve a mandatory trip to the State of New Hampshire Liquor Store to stock up on wine, beer, and spirits. I first went with Sara and Julie. The three of us decided we needed to get some whiskey, and boy did I feel sophisticated when I said my favorite was Maker’s Mark. Sara, a bit of a whiskey connoisseur, politely held her tongue. Instead of Maker’s, I branched out and bought Bulleit and kept it in my studio. Every night before bed, I drank a little from my Barnard coffee mug. At this point, I was being a good boy and going to sleep around midnight.

For the next couple of weeks, most whiskey imbibing was done quietly or in private. We’d started our unofficial Classic Movie Club (entry on this to come) but drank mostly wine and water while watching. When my Bulleit ran dry, Brian and I went back to the liquor store and classed things up with Knob Creek and Basil Hayden’s. Colonists Maya and Stephanie, as well as a really convincing ad in The New York Times, had made Knob Creek the drink of choice for about a week. Just swirling the caramel liquid in my glass made me feel fancy. Thanks to movies and alcohol, I was staying at Colony Hall until well after midnight and enjoying some late-night PB&J toast.

The final act: Sara bought a bottle of 16-year, single-malt Lagavulin—something she’d meant to do when HarperPerennial bought her book—and David got some 15-year Laphroaig. By now we were dancing, chatting, and sipping in Colony Hall until 2 a.m. Everyone seemed to have their own bottle of good stuff, and multi-malt whiskey was but a distant memory of cruder times spent getting a good night’s sleep and working hard the next day. It’s difficult to imagine going back to Maker’s Mark now, but I have a feeling that that will be considered luxurious on my Iowa stipend.

When I left MacDowell, David was so so generous and gave me the rest of his Laphroaig to take home. I’ve been nursing it this last week, afraid that once the last drop goes, I’ll have to accept that I’ve returned to earth, and heaven is a thing of the past.