Mind Palaces are for smart people. People who can walk around in the files of their minds and pull up old memories for examination.
I can’t do that.
Hell, I don’t want to!
When I go into my mind, I am looking for a quiet place…a favorite place…a place to forget, not remember.
So I have a Mind Bar instead.
It looks kind of like this.
Notice there is no one there to bother me.
Even the drinks just magically pour themselves. Bartenders never really give a shit anyway, and if they do, they are eventually a problem for you.
The music is subtle, sometimes there, sometimes not. You’ll never even notice, because it’s that subtle. No live band making me feel guilty for not tipping them as they slowly starve to death on dreams.
Just me.
And the nice, cool feel of the bar against my forearms. The cold glass in my hands. The wafting aroma of a fresh drink. (No goddamned sour mop smell in my bar!)
The flickering candles.
It’s dark, cool, comforting.
There are no memories in my Mind Bar. How could there be? It is a timeless place.
Still. Perfect. And it always has my drink.