Friday, March 21, 2008
We Laughed
(5)
(Beer #6 at 2052. I seem to be falling behind the metabolic curve.)
(Spent that beer watching The McLaughlin Group. Spectacular!)
(Double shot of Canadian Whiskey at 2137, sipping it in a glass of ice and diet pepsi, expecting to forge ahead of the metabolic curve somewhat. Suspicions confirmed at 2140.)
Which brings us to the value of inebriation: pleasure surfaces all 'round; imagination runs rampant; fear recedes into the background; caution blows away with the wind! We are, in short, 'one with the truth,' helpless politicwise. (Downed the last sip of booze at 2153. Buzzing satisfactorily.)
Which brings us to a recent conversation with Kootch: We were watching Millionaire and I was doing a bit of Canadian whiskey prior to reading what I had wrote on my blog (this blog) the previous friday night. (I rarely gather the courage to read, sober, what I wrote, drunk, since my memory of those events is always dim at best. I find it much more agreeable to read my drunken writings... drunk (more or less).
It was therefore a festive occasion and I proposed to Kootch that our marriage was our greatest blunder (since that was what I was thinking at the time). She understood immediately what I meant and suggested that the last 25 years was the most onerous segment in that regard. I immediately pointed out to her that we had been married for more than 50 years and that I could be forgiven for suggesting the same regarding the first 25. Kootch acknowleged my point of view and we declared a draw.
We both understood, of course, that this conversation was semantical in nature and served no useful practical purpose: what was done was done: regrets were irrelevant. We laughed.
(Beer #6 at 2052. I seem to be falling behind the metabolic curve.)
(Spent that beer watching The McLaughlin Group. Spectacular!)
(Double shot of Canadian Whiskey at 2137, sipping it in a glass of ice and diet pepsi, expecting to forge ahead of the metabolic curve somewhat. Suspicions confirmed at 2140.)
Which brings us to the value of inebriation: pleasure surfaces all 'round; imagination runs rampant; fear recedes into the background; caution blows away with the wind! We are, in short, 'one with the truth,' helpless politicwise. (Downed the last sip of booze at 2153. Buzzing satisfactorily.)
Which brings us to a recent conversation with Kootch: We were watching Millionaire and I was doing a bit of Canadian whiskey prior to reading what I had wrote on my blog (this blog) the previous friday night. (I rarely gather the courage to read, sober, what I wrote, drunk, since my memory of those events is always dim at best. I find it much more agreeable to read my drunken writings... drunk (more or less).
It was therefore a festive occasion and I proposed to Kootch that our marriage was our greatest blunder (since that was what I was thinking at the time). She understood immediately what I meant and suggested that the last 25 years was the most onerous segment in that regard. I immediately pointed out to her that we had been married for more than 50 years and that I could be forgiven for suggesting the same regarding the first 25. Kootch acknowleged my point of view and we declared a draw.
We both understood, of course, that this conversation was semantical in nature and served no useful practical purpose: what was done was done: regrets were irrelevant. We laughed.
