What We Should

Why do we not do what we should? Well, maybe you do; do you do your duty? Do you do what is required?
I will give you an example, because I’m in an example sort of mood: you know you have to work tomorrow; you know you’ll work better if you do not drink too much wine (let us define too much wine, for the purpose of argument, as more than one bottle: of course this is variable, based on usage and body volume…); you have drunk said bottle and you’re just getting in the mood to drink more, wondering whether to put on some music, open another bottle, spontaneously invite all your friends, order five pizzas…
Why don’t you stop? Okay, you argue with yourself… all my friends are probably asleep, but I could listen to music, and… even if I don’t order five pizzas, I could dig out a chunk of that good manchego cheese, with some crackers… that would taste so wonderful with some more wine…
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If you are like me, you’ll say: hell, I may get run over by a bus tomorrow. Drink the wine now, while the drinking’s good, enjoy your fucking cheese, because tomorrow you may be dead, and the cheese will rot in your fridge until someone realizes you have bitten the grass and turns the fridge off and throws the cheese in the fucking garbage.
The result of this attitude is that I will come to work tomorrow, having –once again– not been run over by a bus. Relatively frowsy and not quite up to my duty in the purest sense. I won’t suck at what I have to do, no, I am too professional for that, but my inner man knows I could do it better if I had not drunk that extra half a bottle of wine (understatement pure)… but I don’t give a damn. Just now I’m thinking: too bad I don’t have a bottle of rum lying around as well, for that last killer shot with lime juice; or raki, ouzo, anything…
Well, well.
Listening to The Battle March Medley from the Pogues, by the way. Drinking beer now, because the wine is all gone, all gone, alas, and no schnapps in sight, God damn it all. A sailor has to do with what is there, after all. I can only reproach myself for not having made proper provisions. I did not do what I should have in that respect. I failed utterly in my duty to provide for hard liquor.

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That Woman’s Got Me Drinkin’

from Shane MacGowan and the Popes. Christ, this song, well, at least the title, applies to every woman I’ve ever had intimate contact with until now. I love them, and it doesn’t work. In one case it took 20 years and two children to find out that it didn’t work, and it takes quite a bit of liquor to weigh that up, not to mention mental and emotional energy (agony?).
But oh well. That’s life, and you’ve got to deal with it. No one said it would be easy, as my very first woman was wont to say. And if I use drink to get me over one or another emotional hump, who can blame me, except myself?
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I am reminded of Robert Heinlein, who is quoted as saying: „I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.“ Now that is a really wonderful sentiment. It combines freedom, morality and responsibility in one simple sentence. Morally free to get completely, responsibly drunk. Har har.
Have you ever noticed how quickly one can jump from crazy women to moral responsibility?
Let’s jump back. Now I am listening to Sick of Love from Bob Dylan. Yeah, I hear the clock tick… I’m in the thick of it… and I’m lovesick. I miss my girlfriend, although we never could get along for more than a couple days… but when we did get along it was so wonderful. She was the most cheerful woman I ever knew, when she didn’t happen to be insisting on being a complete bitch. Almost a whole year we went on like that. And now I’m sick of love, and I’m trying to forget her, though I’d give anything to be with her just now.