Picture this:
Grammar walks into a bar, orders a whiskey, trips over a semicolon, and flirts with a verb it shouldn’t. It then wakes up the next morning with a hangover called Poetry.
That’s usually how it begins with me: a word, a sip, and a stumble. For me, somewhere between sobriety and intoxication, language loosens its collar, and I follow.
1759 — the year Guinness was born and the year I strongly believe that words first learned to stagger gracefully.
I’ve always believed intoxication to be less about the bottle and more about the lexicon… of commas swaying like dancers at 2 a.m., periods slamming the door too early, and adjectives overdressed and desperate to be noticed.
THIS PIECE IS AN ATTEMPT TO WRITE AS THOUGH THE DICTIONARY WERE A BAR, WITH EACH WORD AS A SHOT DARING ME TO SWALLOW.
Well, from that daring came VENZ… A mobile bar? yes, but more than that, it is a persona, or perhaps many personas, spilled into the world.
A thriving business born from the same intoxication that births my sentences: wild, witty, occasionally profound, often messy, but always alive.
Venz is what happens when intoxication stops being private and decides to serve the room.
To me/us, every event is a chapter, whether it’s a wedding, a birthday, a house party, or any gathering that refuses to be ordinary.
Glasses clink, laughter spills, and sometimes, silence lingers like literature written in liquid.
Here’s the paradox though: not every glass is alcoholic.
Some are mocktails, poured with the same reverence as vintage whiskey.
We have somehow carved out these mocktail tasting sessions as a sort of accidental sanctuaries… Think soft support circles where people sit with their shadows, their recovery, their confessions, and still toast to life.
This is because intoxication isn’t always about alcohol.
Sometimes, it’s about belonging.
Sometimes, it’s the relief of knowing you are not drinking alone in any sense of the word.
This to me, is the grammar of it: that every sentence has room for contradiction.
That a line can be both fractured and whole.
A night can be wild and healing.
That a person can be both sober and intoxicated; on words, on laughter, and even on the audacity to be alive.
I suppose that’s why I call myself a living paradox. Confusing, yes, but somehow I keep the rhythm despite the chaos.
Grammar doesn’t always make sense, yet we keep speaking.
Life doesn’t always make sense, yet we keep living.
Maybe the real intoxication lies not in escaping the confusion, but in finding beauty inside it.
So when I pour or mix, liquor, juice or syrup, at a wedding or a quiet gathering, I’m not just mixing drinks.
I’d say I’m practicing language, written in liquid of things I sometimes struggle to write in ink: that we are here, that we matter, and that our commas are worth keeping.
So, if you ever find yourself gathering people… to marry, to dance, to grieve, to breathe, or simply to live, please let Venz be there.
We’ll bring the bottles; you bring the stories.
Together, we’ll toast the paradox, the intoxication, and the grammar that keeps us alive.
Call/WhatsApp me at +2348188080357, send a note to venzcocktailbar@gmail.com or find me on socials before the punctuation sobers up.
The team would even go to the ends of the world for you *winks*
