I’ll tell you something personal about me…
I like beer a lot, and I’ve never been drunk, not even once.
I’ve come close-ish. I’ve been buzzed.
I’ve gotten slouchy. I’ve almost gotten wobbly.
I definitely wouldn’t drive after a full can. No sir.
I do it for the taste. Which can really depend a lot upon what you’re eating, or how much sweetness you’ve just ingested.
For me, beer is really kind of like tea. Or maybe like a reverse for coffee.
Beer can be relaxing, it can really ease me up.
But after a glass, I don’t get any benefits. I don’t feel anguish washing away.
With the right timing, with the right sweet pairings, beer can really be amazing.
But for some reason, I get giddy when I drink it.
When I have it, I think about what I’ve been taught to see beer as.
How it is called so likely
to drag people into awful habits and dangerous situations.
How they are condemned
just for wanting a little beer because of what it only might do,
and not even for that person drinking it.
I think about that and say, isn’t it awesome how they wrong they were, since I’m basically immune to alcoholism?
And yet, at the same time, rather bizarrely, I am….validating what those people say about liquor as a whole, by celebrating such a consumable.
I sip the can or bottle, and as the breadlike concoction satisfies me, I feel,
isn’t it cool how something so heinous gives me joy?
I….I am not….proud of how I feel about my drinking.
No, I’m not guilty about doing it, but I do feel rather guilty about being proud of it.
I think it’s actually kind of worthy of contempt, how we human beings can…..do something responsibly, tastefully, competently, and still get…..a kind of mischievous joy out of it,
as if we are sneaky thieves rewriting the human condition, when being very civil, while being what we are called is mature.
I think it’s really kind of frustrating how anyone can take so much pleasure out of doing some thing without much effort (in this case, never getting drunk),
and consider it an impressive thing….only because you know that it’s a struggle for so many other people.
I feel cool about drinking because I know it leads so many to ruin. How awkward.
Well, anyway, it isn’t like any philosopher is gonna have the power to change the rules on drinking at this point.
We could change humanity at a fundamental level, and there’d still be cans in the fridge.
Personally, I feel the most sympathy for the guy who just wants to
drink some beer on his stoop. If I had a stoop, I’d definitely sip some Bud Lights on it
after brushing my teeth.
Of course, somewhere down the line, someone will destroy themselves
given the chance to drink in public.
And someone somewhere will feel woe that it was
ever legal to sell or make such a creation. And that prohibition never really worked.
(never mind that fermentation has everything to do with civilization)
And those people will know that someone somewhere will love the crap out of alcohol
without really damaging themselves or anyone they love.
And it will frustrate them forlornly.
But to you, that person feeling anger at those
grasping for short pleasures,
even if one person defies
what it might do to those who seize it,
and for you, on the other side,
that person brooding in rage at those
trying to deny them what they love,
even if such a thing becomes
the follies of the reckless far from you,
yes, it’s for you,
for both of you, that I do write.
That I do fight.
I want to be the new balance injected into
the same old little giant conflicts.
Your undulate with love and hate,
with agreeableness and rebelliousness.
You can feel the harmless pettiness of your joys,
and the magnificent hazards of your dreams.
You are a creature who can touch contrast. You are a mere one being who reaches far and wide
just by being alive.
You drink from the fountains of existence,
intoxicated but also diligent.
You are not the type of disgraceful hustler
that other people say you are. But neither are those you accuse
of that kind of knavery.
Or rather, there is something you can’t seem to breach,
that would really explain your wry self love, your even-tempered scorn for others.
I am an average tempered person. The things that make me special are
things that nobody lacks. I am just someone
who reacts to what he takes in. Who searches not just for pleasure and for meaning,
but the right kind sense of connection to everything outside me,
and to find a sense of purpose that can
help me embody what kindness may exist somewhere in the cosmos.
Because I am special, because there’s something I want to do.
I will do it, next time. I’ll write something I think can change the world,
just by placing it into the hands of any adult who’s aching for something to be birthed out of the internet.
I seek to crack open the ceiling of human closeness, to put a fancy seal upon resentment.
Get out your favorite drink. We’re opening the floodgates.
Culture’s finale, on the information superhighway.
NEXT TIME: COMMANDER L1 DOUBLEEDGE CLEAVES THE WORLD IN HALF AND SEWS IT BACK TOGETHER
ONE SENTENCE TO NUDGE THE WORLD TOWARDS
HOW GOOD YOU THINK YOU ARE