“What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning with infinite artfulness, the red wine of Shiraz into urine?”
I’ve taken to recreational drinking recently, on the weekends when my friends and I finally have a chance to meet up, commiserate our horrible work weeks and drink to our next week of our sad little lives with only the tinkling of glasses and the miserable company of each other, which really is good enough now I think of it. It’s not always that bad, we do meet up for more joyous / neutral reasons. Drinking is fun when it takes a backseat to a larger purpose of the gathering of people.
Its a bit of a problem when you have one too many drinks and end up vegetative for the whole of the next day, though. When I used to drink in abundance and without care, I was always chastised by my mother for not moderating my intake. I tend to drink it – whatever it is available – like water, especially when water is not available. (Bringing a glass to my lips helps to make awkward silences less awkward.). I’m slowly learning to appreciate moderation in drinking. I am however, regressing in my moderation of staying up to ungodly hours, as exemplified by the time now (2+ AM).