Be Wary of Booze

 

BY ZAC CHASE

 

We all know what it’s like to have crumbs on our fingers from the forbidden cookie jar. I feel I know far better than you–a consequence of drinking out of pine tree shaped glasses.

V shaped glasses of booze to forget woes, to celebrate victories, to escape, to gain some “liquid courage” to speak to her/him, to ease the stressful day, to relax, to get that feeling, or maybe, unintentionally , to create future woes whose consequence is crippling shame. And yet, for magnificent highs, to feel like triumphant Thor himself.

For relief of nervousness, which morphs light posts into people on the periphery. To take on a reflection of Courage’s image, mentally combating 3a.m. house squeaks. To rise against the nervousness, which alters whispers, making you believe they are for you, caused by you, because of your being.

For me, alcohol is an odd drink. At times it becomes blood, anointed and Holy, a balm for the absurd. Other times, alcohol flows down throats as a catalyst for “happiness,” attempting to achieve the greatest “yo, this weekend,” tale, typically told by idiots. We are all idiots.

Alcohol has brought about for me cinematic experiences. There is nothing like being two weeks into college, emptying your backpack at 3:00 on Friday, liberating from it your HIST120, ENGL 150 and PHIL 120 books, charming someone into buying you beer, packing 24 cans into a backpack, bringing said backpack into Mad/Lor, chuckling, drinking, breaking the law.

I’ve spent a lot of time dealing with booze, said/heard “Dad’s drunk” too many times. I’ve woken with enough reality bending hangovers to understand I should abstain from it. Nevertheless, the above description of a very much true Friday is entertaining, no?

Through drunken excursions I’ve done my fair share of nonsense. If I used more fitting lexicon to describe those evenings, this would never be printed. When you sin, you recognize sin; like following like. In a way, you have to be evil, or at least think of evil, to know the good.

Try this: through some trickery, aim to achieve a desired end, and then become discovered. Fail at some unethical enterprise of thievery, or as I did, get caught by dad stealing the “cough medicine,” and experience a confrontation as perpetrator. The offended will argue it’s the metaphysical, your intentional “principle of the matter,” which makes you wrong.

However, with the finically orientated, those who try to solve the problem of suffering by concerning themselves with the movement of green pieces of paper are always satisfied with little green pieces of paper.

When someone is concerned with material, money solves their problems. I’ve upset people over material. I borrowed Zach Zegger’s Lord of the Rings: The return of the King extended edition, lost it, and so I could never give it back. Sorry, Man.

George Yancey quoted the “Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow” soliloquy from Macbeth last week at the Fort Howard Theatre. I loved it. Life is damn silly; we are all idiots and soon to be nothings.

 

In light of this fact, I urge you to become a thief like Bruce Wayne did in order to understand wrong and know justice more fully. If you’re going to sin, “sin boldly.” Oh and then write about it in the newspaper, title the article “be wary of booze” just so people read the phrase, “be wary of booze.”

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