I am slowly pulling away from the mire of infirmity. I don't think that I can quite leave the house yet, but maybe sometime soon. I need more fluids. I have all of these new wines here, sent from a friend as I mentioned before, but have been unable to try them, mostly. He believes me to be heroic in my intake of wine, but the truth is perhaps far less Roman, most of the time.
I find few people with whom I can honestly discuss alcohol. I have had people tell me that to discuss it openly, or question it at all, is the only indication needed of there being a problem, which gives you some insight into the hopelessness of the Western mind. People love to convince themselves of the impermanence of newly established categories. I know that I do. Dipsomania is a somewhat recently developed German idea. Nobody notices or cares. It is very real to them, like ADHD, if your kids are unlucky enough to have it.
CS, I can talk with, but only when we are both staunchly pro-alcohol. When either of us becomes "pure of heart," to purge the demons, then it's an all-out nun orgy, anything goes.
It's best to think of drinking as a sin rather than a sickness, like masturbation or gourmandism.
Speaking of, I was able to cook myself dinner last night, and then even eat it. I am getting better at all of that, cooking stuff. It is an adjustment. When you buy food, you expect it to be good. You know where to go to get the food that you like to eat. When you prepare it yourself there are no such expectations. Everything that is actually good must be made in quantities that I can not eat. Lasagna, etc.
If I can make it to the market then I might try making Coq au Vin today/tonight, a dish named of course after my favorite restaurant in Orlando.
I am tempting the demons by drinking coffee with cream right now. I can tell.
That which does not vacate you...
Hot coffee on top of intestinal weakness. Nine out of Ten doctors agree on curing disease. It's known as a pie chart. It is all so convincing.
The thought just occurred to me to do some "chores" around the house today, clean the kitchen and do some laundry, wash the sheets. Why does this stuff make women so much happier than men? They'll deny it, but just look at the glow they have when it's all over. It's sexy. Women are different than men, I have noticed. You would think that age reduces the differences, but no... it only makes them less distinguishable for young people, who still have clearly recognizable sexual characteristics.
Ignore that. That was just my testosterone levels dropping.
It has taken me since Christmas day, but I finally finished the fifty page general introduction to the Norton Anthology of World Religions. At this pace, I'll never be able to decide on a god, or gods. Best, maybe, to just dive in based on the geographic region from which I emerged. I was born at the United States Naval Academy, so I suppose Poseidon would be the best god to start worshiping. Though, that seems a bit Nancy. It would be like Aquaman being your favorite super-hero. It makes no sense. I do not wish to be ashamed of my god, particularly if I chose them. Though, guilt and shame do seem to play an important role in the process.
I am undecided. I am going to go into the inevitable apocalypse as if I am waking up on SuperBowl Sunday without having yet picked a team.
In the massive first volume of religions, I have been skipping around a bit (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Daoism) and haven't been able to yet settle on the appropriate deity that's just right for me, for this volume.
I have a very sweet friend who has been praying, appealing to their Christian God on my behalf. I'm trying to let the other gods know about it, to find out if they are also jealous gods.
I do like it when women pray for me. I really do. I mean it. It makes me feel better.
Men, not as much. That is the nature of any true religion. I prefer for men to do my laundry, and I do not believe that is sexist, but instead is rather a strong stance against just that type of sexism.
It is, at the very least, conceptually equal to the feminist argument. I am an advocate for equality in laundry, also.
See? I am feeling better already.
Okay, this is all just dull life-update stuff. I only wanted to let everybody know that I am still alive, though perhaps a few meters closer to Keith Richards.
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