Drinking Every Day
I used to think people who said “I’ve drank every day this month” were exaggerating or maybe bragging but honestly now I see how it’s possible. Catch-up with friend. Weekday birthday. Pub quiz. Happy hour. The weekend barges in with party horns and straps a conical hat to your chin with an irritating string. Wine picnic. Monday Night Football. Impromptu KTV. Unexpected crush. There are departures and there are returns, each an occasion to lift something in the air. Spicy dinner. Soft opening. Stress. Happy hour, again. Return of coworker. Loss of job. Sorrow has a poem it'd like you to write, joy throws both arms around your neck. An acquaintance you’d wanted to know better, bumped into. Guest mixologist. Beer pong. Argument. Lager, Riesling, bubbly brunch. The price of living the active life, or being bored in the big city. A lovely Sardinian, a reason to Google. Whisky tasting. Nostalgia. That cocktail bartender you hadn’t seen in a while. A date? A hair of the dog. A mood. But not a physical need — no, not that — nothing so crass as dependence. Nothing needing censorship, nothing to be worried about. Just a better way to live with oneself, pass the time, as if the key to getting through life was spending more time unaware of life that’s passing. Let’s cheers to that. Say See you on the other side and mean it. You pick the therapy, I’ll bring the dance. Here’s the poison, let’s put our hips into it. Movement. Beauty. A thing you can’t hold and a thing you can’t have. Let’s do that: see each other. First round’s on me.
Brilliant!
I'll drink to that :)