I went away with my brothers and 50 of our friends this past weekend. We centered the weekend around an event, but basically we got together to drink beer, and other alcoholic beverages; one of which is called ‘Rumor Has It’ and apparently they limit that drink to two per person.
I must have had alcohol on the brain in anticipation last week, because I wrote this in my last post.
‘When you are the drunkest guy at the party, you don’t notice anyone else is even tipsy. That holds true if you are drunk with happiness. With sadness. With pain. With anything.’
And in response on Facebook, Josh Carney posted a link to this poem. I am not a poetry reader with any regularity. But I do love a great poem when I read one.
Maybe this is on the wall of every college frat house. Maybe this was in Dead Poets Society. I don’t ever remember reading it. And thought this was wildly inspirational, even in a foggy disoriented, hung over state like I was yesterday.
You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will
answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves
of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”
I chose the wine this past weekend. And it was good. I will choose differently today. And that will be better.