Moments of Clarity

They are so few. It is sad really. But I guess that is what makes them special. Most of mine are silly, like, finding out in my late 30's that 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea was in fact across, not down (because mathwise, a league equals, give or take, three miles). The ones I like best are in movies. That surprise, if you will, like in The Sting, LA Confidential, or especially The Sixth Sense. I can still feel retarded about the clues that were the size of billboards in the Sixth Sense, and yet, doh dee doh dee doh, I missed'em.
Moments of clarity can let you feel good that way.
I was going to balance this entry out by mentioning the sad ones, but in a moment of clarity, I have decided not to. ha.

Why Believing in God is Like Being Drunk

It is about giving away responsibility for your own actions, not taking ownership for what you do and assigning it to someone else. In the case of God, it's giving the authority to do things to God and he/she being responsible for the consequences. In the case for getting drunk, you're abdicating your responsibility to yet another ethereal state that can take the blame for you if something happens.
Drinking takes away responsibility, "Oh I was drunk when I did that!", equals "Whew! that was a close one. I feel bad but I don't have to do anything about what i said or did because I was, well, y'know...drunk.
We give drinking the responsibility not unlike we give God the responsibility. While cursing the lives lost in a flood or other natural disaster we'll say,"why did that happen?" The religious response is, "Well, it's His way", so that we can accept it on some level. We justify why God let a bad thing happen with, 'it's OK, because it was God, and he takes the responsibility.'
I was wondering why people drink, generally speaking. Alcohol never gets any good press. It's always bad (save for my favorite movie Arthur) and yet intoxication has gone on since the beggining of time.
I myself am kinda torn because I love drinking. I love the feeling of totally fried/toasted, but hate the lack of control you assume while doing it. I hate giving the authority away to someone or something else, but it is nice to get away without having to pack or plan. Like religion, drinking is a very personal thing, because once you start drinking, fairly quickly you find yourself all alone inside your head.

I Had SUCH a good time

I did really.
I had already planned to go and my trusty sidekick called to say, "Oh, tonight turns out to be bad, I got offered a ticket to the famous sporting event in town". I say no biggie, we'll go tomorrow night. Agreed.
He calls me later and says they're heading to (good local bar), come join them. Agreed.
I pat my staff on their collective heads with a warning for everyone to be good and I took the rest of the night off. I do love being in charge.
Met my trusty sidekick at the good local bar and they were doing half-yards. I myself had been away for awhile so I decided to ease in with pints a plenty. Good conversation ensued. Time went by and we were beered out at that bar and the others were hungry so they moseyed on for pizza while trusty sidekick and I went to another bar where I opted for grownup alcohol. A great buzz ensued. I have to admit here, I've only had two hangovers in my life despite single sittings of alcohol consumption where test subjects lost their lives. Just lucky me, I guess.
Sleep, although not where I planned it, ensured the good feeling of the evening would pass unfettered into history, the only downside being that it is now 5 o'clock in the fucking morning and I won't be going back to sleep.
Still, a great yet unremarkable evening.

Talk amongst yourselves

...because, I'm going drinking.

Night Is All Around Me

The wine glass is filled (again) and I can still type, so let's talk about Tina Turner.

I was surf'n a little bit and came across PBS, where a voice over was narrating while images of what I thought were southern Baptist type churches were passing by. Turns out they were the Tennessee churches that Tina Turner attended and sang at when she was a child and that she was doing the speaking in the voice over. She talked about her childhood some and then it cut to her in concert and she was singing 'What's Love Got To Do with It'.
I'll be upfront and say I'ma kinda fan of Tina Turner. I don't dislike her in any way. I don't go out of my way to here her, still, I have a tremendous amount of respect for her and her music, but I gotta tell ya, she may be 66, but she is gorgeous. I'm watching her sing, not knowing exactly how old she was until I looked it up later, but I was thinking, My Gawd, she is beautiful and so exciting in the enrgized way. I swear I hope I look that good at her age (won't happen). One of the things about her is that to me musically, she is part of the group that epitomized the '80's. In her interview part of the program she said something so profound. She said that she never thinks about her music delivering a message, just that it makes you feel a certain way. And I thought that that is so right. It's never going to mean the same thing to me hearing it as it was to her writing it, or mean the same thing to another person hearing it. But it can make us all feel a certain way.
(Brief pause for the immediate consumption of chicken quesadilla Lean Pockets (the downside of alcohol consumption - hunger) and a wine refill. Yes, I'm feeling much better now.)
Whoa, I've lost my train of thought. God, I love wine,and Screwdrivers, and Gin & Tonics, and Vodka Sours. And for all those left out, oh, oh! Daiquiries with 151, I really love you the best.
Of late I've been mentally lazy, saying to myself, "I wish I was writing...", which of couse isn't true because if I really did wish to write, well, duh, I would fucking write.
There are so many simple truths. Eat less, exercise more. That's true, because I'm doing it. Yes, I'm eating less. I'm exercising more, and I'm becoming smaller! My six pack is still a case (or two), but it's no longer a keg (thankyouverymuch) and I'm donning clothes that people would actually wear other than cleaning the house.
It frightens me to think that I must have been well over three hundred when I decided that "I really don't want to die a big fat guy". That's absolutely true, and I thinkl that constantly. It is what motivates me. It keeps me going through six miles of walking running a day. It is what motivates me to not eat like an idiot, which I've done for an embarrassing amount of years. I hate not getting second looks.
Oh. oh....boring! More wine, Garcon!
I have been drinkinking tremendousa amounts of water which I have elected to substitute with wine this day. Yeah for me! Right now, my wine is a meal in a glass!
I'm thinking I should post soon before degrading to far into unreadability, but then really how far is that from where I be now. (goin' to the kitchen to get more vino!)
Apparently, I say apparently, I miscalculated and this will be as much (well, I squoze (real word?) oout a half a glass from a now complete-telly dead bottle) (now, like a pirate)and there be fresh bottle on deck, aaaarrgghh! (Now back to regular syntax) So this is as good as it gets (hmmmm, note to self: mention to Jim Brooks, would make killer title for movie. Probably Oscar worthy)
Oh horrors, I'm probably gonna post this without any editing. Y'know what, fuck, I don't care, as far as I know i didn't whine too much, I do wish I'd been clever (er?). But as it stands I don't think I offenddeed anyone, but I do miss hearing from some people, and actually you don't know who you are because you don't stop by anymore.
Oh CHRIST! I jsut said I didn't whine! Pussy, I'm just a super Big Pussy (who, now there's imagery that I don't htink I'd like to wake up to).
No. no, I'm doing takebacks,a dn the last whiney thing wrote is stricken. (and I can't believe I worded that grammatically correct).
My wine is nearing the end of the glass, or the bottom rather, and like the ghost of Christmas yet to come...hmmm, I don't know what I was going to write there but it really was pulitzer.
This is your blog. This your blog on alcohol.
They keep begging me at work to get a blog started about work. This without any knowledge that I have been blogging for over a year, because as well you know blogging is personal.
I was just thinking I pity you poor people trying to decipher this, as it's 100% crystal in my head, but I'm all alone in my head at the moment, which is what alcohol does.
Ah, the last swig has been downed and I'm off to reminisce on young ladies I knew in a simpler time when the summer were warm, not hot like they are now. and it was fashionable to be charming. I do miss those days, and I'm sorry if that's whining. I really don't care.
Good night.

My God I have to put some keyboard to screen

My head is a wasteland right now, so many things going on. I had a terribly successful roadtrip from Cincinnati, OH to home in Connecticut in a mere 13 hours including a traverse across the great expanse of Pennsylvania. And speaking of Pennsylvania, I truley believe the entire length of Interstate route 80 is lined with poppy's to make you sleepy, like in the wizard of oz, because as pretty as the scenery is, as soon as you hit Pennsylvania, you're overwhelmed with a, "I'm not gonna make it across 80, because I'm just to fucking tired!" This feeling dissipates as you hit New Jersey (which is different issues altogether), but man, while you're in it all you hear is those munchkins humming and you're hoping that Glinda's gonna make it snow soon.
On a personal note to fellow traveler's: The very first sign on the highway that a Dunkin' Donuts (their coffee IS the staff of life) is within striking distance was the second to last exit before hitting the state line of New Jersey. I was VERY pissed about that. Very. Water was not a problem. Plenty of hydration. I needed the Dunkin' coffee. I was forced to used substitutes. I'm a simple guy. I like one coffee. I like it black. I have tried many other coffee's, even kona. I like Dunkin'. Ironically, I don't like their donuts. I prefer the yeast-based circles of joy created by the good folks at Krispy Kreme. They are reminiscent of a chain that was around when I was a kid called Bess Eaton, and OMG, the chocolate frosted donuts were to die for.

Kristopher Scott Allen (1988-2005)

We shall not ever meet them bearded in heaven
Nor sunning themselves among the bald of hell;
If anywhere, in the deserted schoolyard at twilight,
forming a ring, perhaps, or joining hands
In games whose very names we have forgotten.
Come memory, let us seek them there in the shadows.
-Donald Justice (1959)