“I take sugar with it” seems an innocuous enough remark but to Paul-Marie Verlaine, the French poet and granddaddy of absinthe drinkers this was more this was more like “a sort of war-cry” as one contemporary dryly remarked. When Verlaine was on absinthe there was often mayhem and destruction, for absinthe raised all the devils that plagued him. Towards the end of his life he was a sorry fellow who had strangers buy absinthe for him in return for recounting tales of his Bohemian debauchery. [Read full article…]
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