Liquified Sweatsocks
What do you think it is about getting older than enables you to drink/eat disgusting things?
In high school, I couldn't understand everyone's infatuation with alcohol. It made you do ridiculous shit, it was expensive, and it tasted terrible!. I don't remember how I knew the taste, but I knew it was bad—maybe from smelling it on people's breath, the rotten banana odor of a mouth washed in whiskey and schnapps. And I couldn't get how anyone would enjoy sitting around dumping beer—which tasted like gray, liquified sweat socks—down their throats.
And now, of course, I am a monumental drunk.
I also despised coffee—and now I drink it constantly. This one is even more interesting, because I still think it tastes terrible. I still sip it and then shudder, shake my head, and get some more.
I think the explanation here is a recognition of the value of effect over the value of flavor—
although coffee does do that nice thing where you breathe into the mug and your own breath circles back into your eyes, only now warmed to the steamy point, and it's like you're in a shower, a feeling that can make any morning better.
I've been reading this book, The Royal Family, for . . . I dunno, months, easily. Months! It's about 800 pages of densely packed text . . . and it's all about whores. The Queen of the Whores, actually. And pretty good but depressing . . . overall, recommendable.
Wes has borrowed from me the Illuminatus Trilogy, which is basically a big ball of goofy scifi dipped in the seventies and then crammed down your throat with a generous side of Lovecraftian weirdness.
Also recommendable.
In high school, I couldn't understand everyone's infatuation with alcohol. It made you do ridiculous shit, it was expensive, and it tasted terrible!. I don't remember how I knew the taste, but I knew it was bad—maybe from smelling it on people's breath, the rotten banana odor of a mouth washed in whiskey and schnapps. And I couldn't get how anyone would enjoy sitting around dumping beer—which tasted like gray, liquified sweat socks—down their throats.
And now, of course, I am a monumental drunk.
I also despised coffee—and now I drink it constantly. This one is even more interesting, because I still think it tastes terrible. I still sip it and then shudder, shake my head, and get some more.
I think the explanation here is a recognition of the value of effect over the value of flavor—
although coffee does do that nice thing where you breathe into the mug and your own breath circles back into your eyes, only now warmed to the steamy point, and it's like you're in a shower, a feeling that can make any morning better.
I've been reading this book, The Royal Family, for . . . I dunno, months, easily. Months! It's about 800 pages of densely packed text . . . and it's all about whores. The Queen of the Whores, actually. And pretty good but depressing . . . overall, recommendable.
Wes has borrowed from me the Illuminatus Trilogy, which is basically a big ball of goofy scifi dipped in the seventies and then crammed down your throat with a generous side of Lovecraftian weirdness.
Also recommendable.
0 Replies:
Post a Comment
<< Home