As an apostacized (ex) Mormon, there are many things about the LDS faith that I dislike and much I disagree with. But, while those may appear in other posts from time to time, here are some of the things about the religion and culture I appreciate the most:
I love the practice of referring to other members as "Brother" and "Sister." Even if there is no god, no afterlife we are all still members of the same body of humanity. Such forms of address, I feel, are a beautiful reminder of the commonality of our experience with life and the mutual respect we should have for one another.
I love the fact that most Mormons are respectful of others' beliefs and are not aggressive about imposing their faith on others. There are many exceptions, especially here in Utah where it's easy to adopt an "us versus them" mentality, but in my experience (leaving the Church, going to jail, etc.) my family and neighbors - predominantly LDS - have been far more concerned about letting me know they love me than trying to correct my errors in belief.
I love the fact that Mormonism has a lay clergy. While this often leads to unpredictable, humorous, and sometimes offensive and ignorant sermons, it also ensures that members have an active interest in Church policy, doctrine, and affairs. This thread of participation binds everyone together and is conducive to feelings of brotherhood and empathy.
Again, I'm not officially a Mormon anymore, and for all the good there is a lot of bad. But from time to time I feel a need to assert its positive aspects - as much for my benefit as others'. Because, for better or worse, I am still a cultural mormon and will probably be for the remainder of my life.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Ode to Escapism
I'm bitching out of writing a blog entry tonight. I worked ten hours on the phones today, then went to watch a Sundance flick I really wanted to see only to be turned away right before our wait list numbers were called. I'm feeling kind of bummed and listless. I promise I'll write something meaningful -at least to me- tomorrow, but for now here's my all time favorite drinking quote. From The Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck:
And always, if he had a little money, a man could get drunk. The hard edges gone, and the warmth. Then there was no loneliness, for a man could people his brain with friends, and he could find his enemies and destroy them. Sitting in a ditch, the earth grew soft under him. Failures dulled and the future was no threat. And hunger did not skulk about, but the world was soft and easy, and a man could reach the place he started for. Death was a friend, and sleep was death's brother. The old times came back--a girl with pretty feet, who danced one time at home--a horse--a long time ago. A horse and a saddle. And the leather was carved. When was that? Ought to find a girl to talk to. That's nice. Might lay with her, too. But warm here. And the stars down so close, and sadness and pleasure so close together, really the same thing. Like to stay drunk all the time. Who says it's bad? Who dares to say it's bad? Preachers--but they got their own kinda drunkenness. Thin, barren women, but they're too miserable to know. Reformers--but they don't bite deep enough into living to know. No--the stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood of the worlds. And everything's holy--everything, even me.
And always, if he had a little money, a man could get drunk. The hard edges gone, and the warmth. Then there was no loneliness, for a man could people his brain with friends, and he could find his enemies and destroy them. Sitting in a ditch, the earth grew soft under him. Failures dulled and the future was no threat. And hunger did not skulk about, but the world was soft and easy, and a man could reach the place he started for. Death was a friend, and sleep was death's brother. The old times came back--a girl with pretty feet, who danced one time at home--a horse--a long time ago. A horse and a saddle. And the leather was carved. When was that? Ought to find a girl to talk to. That's nice. Might lay with her, too. But warm here. And the stars down so close, and sadness and pleasure so close together, really the same thing. Like to stay drunk all the time. Who says it's bad? Who dares to say it's bad? Preachers--but they got their own kinda drunkenness. Thin, barren women, but they're too miserable to know. Reformers--but they don't bite deep enough into living to know. No--the stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood of the worlds. And everything's holy--everything, even me.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
It's Been a While
My last blog post was almost a week and a half ago. And, for someone who set out to post at least three times per week- if not daily, that fact is an all too obvious (and depressing) reminder that I am still one of the world's elite procrastinators. While I was in jail I constantly lamented all the time I wasted prior to my arrest and just as constantly fantasized about all I would accomplish once free- because I now truly knew the value of maximizing one's time. Writing my book, learning French- then Russian, earning a post-graduate degree (maybe I should focus on the Bachelor's first?), and paying off my credit card debt would all come simply as my life wouldn't revolve around pot anymore. My perfect world would nearly effortlessly materialize and I would stand as a shining example of the (not so) Little Felon that Could.
Ahh...pipe dreams. Formed in the crucible of jail-cell introspection. Captivity forces such a drastic alteration of every aspect of your life that it's easy to imagine, rather know, that during your incarceration all your bad habits have magically disappeared, never to trouble you again. It's true that I haven't been tempted to smoke pot since being freed, but self-congratulation on that point seems hollow as I now spend most my former pot money on books and booze. Books aren't a bad investment, but the fact that I've purchased more of them than I have written pages is telling. For a would-be writer it's a sign that the 'would-be' may well always be there. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Ahh...pipe dreams. Formed in the crucible of jail-cell introspection. Captivity forces such a drastic alteration of every aspect of your life that it's easy to imagine, rather know, that during your incarceration all your bad habits have magically disappeared, never to trouble you again. It's true that I haven't been tempted to smoke pot since being freed, but self-congratulation on that point seems hollow as I now spend most my former pot money on books and booze. Books aren't a bad investment, but the fact that I've purchased more of them than I have written pages is telling. For a would-be writer it's a sign that the 'would-be' may well always be there. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Lewis Sparks Uproar with Veiled Christian Messages
C.S. Lewis, the acclaimed author of the children's fiction series The Chronicles of Narnia, has provoked an avalanche of criticism after it became known that the 7-part series, particularly The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (Book Two), contains many similarities to the biblical story of Jesus and is construed by many as an allegorical interpretation of his crucifixion and resurrection. Outrage on the part of the fundamentalist secular community peaked when it was revealed that Lewis has previously spoken of writing the books with the intent to: "Bring children to Christ, and kill the idea of a benevolent, non-dogmatic human community in the minds of children."
Calling the books, "Christianity for kids," Phil Donahue, president of the American Association of Atheistic and Agnostic Secular Humanists (AAAASH), was one of the first to publicly denounce them. "What Mr. Lewis is trying to do is slip these dangerous Christian themes of love, forgiveness, and redemption past trusting parents and into the minds of our innocent children. Most parents will simply read the synopsis on the back and think, 'Oh, adventure stories about good lions and evil witches. Those seem pretty harmless.' That's precisely why these books are so evil- and threatening. All our lives we have tried to instill in our children a strong sense of belief in the fact that when we die we will end up in the ground as nothing more than worm-food. But Lewis is pushing responsible parents aside and directly trying to pervert the faith of the most easily swayed. The faith of innocent kids! This guy makes me sick," Donahue said in a joint press-conference with Nonbelievers UNITE!
Rather than back away from the stances that make him so controversial, Lewis has only reiterated his positions, claiming that he is "trying to save all the young ones from their parents' stupidity and deception," as well as prevent them from enduring an eternity "burning in hellfire." In a recent press release he stated that, "Christ is our redeemer, and I'm not going to shy away from proclaiming His gospel simply because some skittish parents are afraid their bubble of falsehoods will be burst and the brainwashed children will finally be exposed to truth."
Public school districts nationwide have sent out letters warning parents that the Narnia series may contain messages they may not want exposed to their children, fueling the controversy. Dianne Schiulte, Superintendent of Schools in Webb County, Texas put it this way, "It's not like we're telling parents not to let their children read Christian-themed books, which would be unconstitutional. We simply realize that most of the children in our schools come from non-religious families and they won't know how to put these ideas in their proper context- namely, hysterical nonsense. We live in a century when most people are aware that Christianity has been disproved time and time again. But most children don't know this. It's our duty to let parents know of objectionable materials aimed at young children that they should be aware of."
Whether innocuous children's fiction or a subtle ad campaign for Christianity, these books aren't likely to fade into obscurity anytime soon. Sales of the Narnia series are through the roof and many of AAAASH's critics think the association has much to do with that. "Prudish busybodies," said an anonymous source at Lewis's publicity agency. "Although controversy definitely sells more books." But Donahue rejects any suggestion that all this publicity will garner support- intellectual or financial- for Lewis. "Let's not forget that Lewis has called his books 'a repudiation of His Dark Materials' (Philip Pullman's beloved classic children's novels). This man must be stopped."
Friday, January 11, 2008
Say 'Yes' to Pollsters
Recently Huffington Post has been my favorite political website. They generally have a wide range of unbiased political coverage as well as dozens of progressive blogs. But I must take exception to a recent post by the site's founder, Arianna Huffington.
In a post entitled Say No to Pollsters Ms. Huffington takes the position that political pollsters are destroying civic dialogue in this country, as well as creating a culture in which pols pander to those likely to answer political surveys over the phone- all for the "buzz of a bump in the polls." She then drives her argument home by claiming that, since these surveys often have a participation rate of only 25% ("abysmally low") of the eligible voting public, they certainly aren't an honest representation of how things will go come election day. "Wow!" you say. "Only 25%. That's not representative at all."
But, while it sounds "abysmally low," 25% isn't far below the voter turnout rate for many elections. And, because the people who are most responsive to telephone polls are the people most likely to vote, it generally does provide an accurate cross-section of voter sentiment. I have worked for a polling firm (Dan Jones and Associates) since 2002, and our pre-election results have almost never been wrong. Granted this is Utah, so most races aren't that close, but there have been some- the SLC mayoral race of 2003, for example. To ensure accuracy we even (at our expense) run our own surveys alongside those commissioned. The New Hampshire pollsters have taken a lot of flak, maybe deservedly so, but the fact that so many of the maligned Democratic Primary polls were taken from Friday 1/4-Monday 1/7 is meaningful. The response percentage of calls made is almost always higher on the first couple days of a poll than the last couple, so most of those polls were likely conducted in the immediate afterglow of Obama's Iowa win. And, because there's no reliable algorithm to factor in 'momentum,' Barak's Fri/Sat votes are no less meaningful to the final tally than Hillary's Sun/Mon votes- when she must have been bringing in a much higher percentage.
Polls certainly aren't infallible; no one's making that claim. But the reason the media and politicians buy into their results so much is simply because there isn't a more effective way of gauging public opinion. Huffington claims that, by hanging up on pollsters, "we can force our leaders to start thinking for themselves again." But weren't they put in office to listen to what we have to say? And haven't we had enough (at least 8 years worth) of politicians thinking too much for themselves? Give pollsters your opinions (assuming it's not a blatant push poll), get your voice heard, then vote.
In a post entitled Say No to Pollsters Ms. Huffington takes the position that political pollsters are destroying civic dialogue in this country, as well as creating a culture in which pols pander to those likely to answer political surveys over the phone- all for the "buzz of a bump in the polls." She then drives her argument home by claiming that, since these surveys often have a participation rate of only 25% ("abysmally low") of the eligible voting public, they certainly aren't an honest representation of how things will go come election day. "Wow!" you say. "Only 25%. That's not representative at all."
But, while it sounds "abysmally low," 25% isn't far below the voter turnout rate for many elections. And, because the people who are most responsive to telephone polls are the people most likely to vote, it generally does provide an accurate cross-section of voter sentiment. I have worked for a polling firm (Dan Jones and Associates) since 2002, and our pre-election results have almost never been wrong. Granted this is Utah, so most races aren't that close, but there have been some- the SLC mayoral race of 2003, for example. To ensure accuracy we even (at our expense) run our own surveys alongside those commissioned. The New Hampshire pollsters have taken a lot of flak, maybe deservedly so, but the fact that so many of the maligned Democratic Primary polls were taken from Friday 1/4-Monday 1/7 is meaningful. The response percentage of calls made is almost always higher on the first couple days of a poll than the last couple, so most of those polls were likely conducted in the immediate afterglow of Obama's Iowa win. And, because there's no reliable algorithm to factor in 'momentum,' Barak's Fri/Sat votes are no less meaningful to the final tally than Hillary's Sun/Mon votes- when she must have been bringing in a much higher percentage.
Polls certainly aren't infallible; no one's making that claim. But the reason the media and politicians buy into their results so much is simply because there isn't a more effective way of gauging public opinion. Huffington claims that, by hanging up on pollsters, "we can force our leaders to start thinking for themselves again." But weren't they put in office to listen to what we have to say? And haven't we had enough (at least 8 years worth) of politicians thinking too much for themselves? Give pollsters your opinions (assuming it's not a blatant push poll), get your voice heard, then vote.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Angry White Men
Sometime I wonder what it's going to take/To find dignity -Bob Dylan
Today James Kirchick published a piece for the New Republic entitled Angry White Man. It's an expose of racist, homophobic, misogynist, anti-semitic, anti-government (Right Wing Wacko 101 stuff) content in monthly newsletters Ron Paul published since at least 1978. The veracity of Kirchick's article- and "Dr Paul's" relationship to the newsletters- is currently being hotly debated and, while I don't want to get into the pros and cons of each argument (read the article yourself and draw your own conclusions), raises some very disturbing allegations about the grassroots W.J. Bryan-type Republican making a run for the presidency. But that's not what I wanted to write about, just what prompted it.
For some reason there's a very mean vein running through the souls of many young (old too, but not as much) white people today, generally men. I can't say exactly where it comes from, but it so often finds its outlet in the same type of intolerance and outright bigotry that's mentioned above. To be sure this vein comes with varying purity of hatred and fear -- joking about Hillary needing to be raped (yes, I've heard that) is a far cry from simply wishing she doesn't get elected because she's a woman -- tying someone to a fence post and leaving them to die is a far cry from opposing a marriage amendment -- training a militia for a coming race war is a far cry from opposing Affirmative Action -- but, whether openly discussed or approached with much more socially acceptable indirectness and euphemism, these type of views still stem from the same impulses and emotions. And it's scary (and depressing) how prevalent they are in our supposedly enlightened generation. Is it really that bad that we have to honestly compete with women and minorities for the positions of prestige and influence which have been ours by default for so many centuries? Shouldn't that simply awaken the sense of respect, brotherhood, and co-stewardship for our civilization that I know we have? Our race isn't being threatened, respect for men isn't in jeopardy, gays aren't recruiting our children, and the State isn't trying to crush Christianity. We have problems enough without dwelling on stuff like this.
Take a minute, turn off the Sean Hannity or Lou Dobbs, and let the anger drift away; forget what you've ever heard about the Bible from Pat Robertson and take a moment to contemplate what the (White/Black?) Jewish Feminist- on whom the religion to which you claim devotion is founded- said: Inasmuch as ye have done (legislated?) it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. You've heard it many times before, but really think about what he meant by such a statement. And, whether Christian or not, we can all learn from that man's example. This world already has plenty of hatred and xenophobia; it doesn't need any more contributions.
Today James Kirchick published a piece for the New Republic entitled Angry White Man. It's an expose of racist, homophobic, misogynist, anti-semitic, anti-government (Right Wing Wacko 101 stuff) content in monthly newsletters Ron Paul published since at least 1978. The veracity of Kirchick's article- and "Dr Paul's" relationship to the newsletters- is currently being hotly debated and, while I don't want to get into the pros and cons of each argument (read the article yourself and draw your own conclusions), raises some very disturbing allegations about the grassroots W.J. Bryan-type Republican making a run for the presidency. But that's not what I wanted to write about, just what prompted it.
For some reason there's a very mean vein running through the souls of many young (old too, but not as much) white people today, generally men. I can't say exactly where it comes from, but it so often finds its outlet in the same type of intolerance and outright bigotry that's mentioned above. To be sure this vein comes with varying purity of hatred and fear -- joking about Hillary needing to be raped (yes, I've heard that) is a far cry from simply wishing she doesn't get elected because she's a woman -- tying someone to a fence post and leaving them to die is a far cry from opposing a marriage amendment -- training a militia for a coming race war is a far cry from opposing Affirmative Action -- but, whether openly discussed or approached with much more socially acceptable indirectness and euphemism, these type of views still stem from the same impulses and emotions. And it's scary (and depressing) how prevalent they are in our supposedly enlightened generation. Is it really that bad that we have to honestly compete with women and minorities for the positions of prestige and influence which have been ours by default for so many centuries? Shouldn't that simply awaken the sense of respect, brotherhood, and co-stewardship for our civilization that I know we have? Our race isn't being threatened, respect for men isn't in jeopardy, gays aren't recruiting our children, and the State isn't trying to crush Christianity. We have problems enough without dwelling on stuff like this.
Take a minute, turn off the Sean Hannity or Lou Dobbs, and let the anger drift away; forget what you've ever heard about the Bible from Pat Robertson and take a moment to contemplate what the (White/Black?) Jewish Feminist- on whom the religion to which you claim devotion is founded- said: Inasmuch as ye have done (legislated?) it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. You've heard it many times before, but really think about what he meant by such a statement. And, whether Christian or not, we can all learn from that man's example. This world already has plenty of hatred and xenophobia; it doesn't need any more contributions.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Go to the Symphony
Last night I attended a performance of the Utah Symphony. Going to shows at Abravanel Hall has grown on me since the first few times when I would earnestly fight to stay awake for the entire performance- usually not successfully. I think it was the performance of Stravinsky's Firebird I saw there when I was 14 which changed my whole outlook. Suddenly this music wasn't a staid, over-the-head, elitist type thing at all, but something vital, urgent, piercing. This single performance completely changed the musical outlook of a high school kid who, when asked about his favorite music, would invariably respond, "Anything but classical or country," as for the first time I was auditorily, visually, and emotionally transported to a different plane of perception and sensation during an orchestral rendition. This may seem like a rather pretentious way of describing what happened to me, but anyone who's experienced anything similar can vouch for its truth. And I know there are many purists out there who wouldn't describe Stravinsky as "classical" at all- the debut of his Rite of Spring provoked riots and outrage- but what do simple semantics matter when one is dealing with something that can be so beyond his ken, yet at the same time so personal and evocative?
The main event last night was a rendition of Dvorak's 7th Symphony (dark Cze
ch music), which was wonderful, but prior to that there was a violin concerto by Aram Khachaturian with a soloist that gave me chills. The only downside to her performance was that some audience members began clapping in between movements (a huge no-no. Hint: if you are new to classical music, never clap until the rest of the audience is). Still, she recovered with grace, and the evening proceeded smoothly after that. What made it even better was the fact that I got the pair of $50 tickets for 8 bucks apiece. I'm not currently a student, but I still have my student ID, which makes going to the symphony cheaper than seeing a movie- at that price I figure I can't afford not to go. Whether a current or former student and a music lover of any stripe, you too can (should) take advantage of these ticket prices; we have a wonderful symphony, with an internationally acclaimed conductor, that routinely plays many of the greatest compositions in history. Next week is Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich- let's pack Abravanel to the rafters and give these guys their due. I promise, it'll be money well-spent.
ch music), which was wonderful, but prior to that there was a violin concerto by Aram Khachaturian with a soloist that gave me chills. The only downside to her performance was that some audience members began clapping in between movements (a huge no-no. Hint: if you are new to classical music, never clap until the rest of the audience is). Still, she recovered with grace, and the evening proceeded smoothly after that. What made it even better was the fact that I got the pair of $50 tickets for 8 bucks apiece. I'm not currently a student, but I still have my student ID, which makes going to the symphony cheaper than seeing a movie- at that price I figure I can't afford not to go. Whether a current or former student and a music lover of any stripe, you too can (should) take advantage of these ticket prices; we have a wonderful symphony, with an internationally acclaimed conductor, that routinely plays many of the greatest compositions in history. Next week is Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich- let's pack Abravanel to the rafters and give these guys their due. I promise, it'll be money well-spent. Thursday, January 3, 2008
Yeah...I was totally going to write about Iowa tonight even if Hillary won, but Obama did. So I didn't lie...eat it!
Maybe it had something to do with Kucinich's semi-concession, maybe it had something to do with the abnormally large percentage of younger voters turning out for the Iowa caucuses tonight. Whatever happened, Obama won the Democratic caucuses by a significant margin, and I am currently riding on cloud nine. The only downside is that Huckabee won the Republican caucus, and 
he is the creepiest guy with a legitimate shot at the White House since Ross Perot-- or Bob Dole?... anyone? I'm a pretty liberal person, but I would personally go stump for Romney (ughh!) if I thought the Republican nominee would be our next pres. Anyone who promises, "A military of sorts that no one on earth would want to take us on," and who would blatantly serve up a wholesale insult of the intelligence of the American electorate (though when have we proved our intelligence in the past- McGovern/Nixon anyone?) by calling a press conference to showcase his new negative campaign ad against Mitt while simultaneously repudiating negative campaining is either the dumbest politician ever or the most "cynically brilliant" (Huffington post). Time will tell, but I think if Huck is the Rep. nominee he will have a difficult time (he'll do it, but it'll be close) even carrying Utah... especially if Obama or Edwards is the Dem. candidate. No matter whose campaigns the rest of the primary season bears out I am stoked. I am an Obama fan- though I will still take bets against Hillary- but now I have unlimited license to gush about the campaigns because of his win (see blog on 12/20/07). So I love him even more for winning tonight. Suddenly my blog is rife with ideas for future posts; most of them political. Sorry, folks- it'll be a long eleven months.
he is the creepiest guy with a legitimate shot at the White House since Ross Perot-- or Bob Dole?... anyone? I'm a pretty liberal person, but I would personally go stump for Romney (ughh!) if I thought the Republican nominee would be our next pres. Anyone who promises, "A military of sorts that no one on earth would want to take us on," and who would blatantly serve up a wholesale insult of the intelligence of the American electorate (though when have we proved our intelligence in the past- McGovern/Nixon anyone?) by calling a press conference to showcase his new negative campaign ad against Mitt while simultaneously repudiating negative campaining is either the dumbest politician ever or the most "cynically brilliant" (Huffington post). Time will tell, but I think if Huck is the Rep. nominee he will have a difficult time (he'll do it, but it'll be close) even carrying Utah... especially if Obama or Edwards is the Dem. candidate. No matter whose campaigns the rest of the primary season bears out I am stoked. I am an Obama fan- though I will still take bets against Hillary- but now I have unlimited license to gush about the campaigns because of his win (see blog on 12/20/07). So I love him even more for winning tonight. Suddenly my blog is rife with ideas for future posts; most of them political. Sorry, folks- it'll be a long eleven months.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Happy New Year
There is a good deal to be said for internment. It keeps you out of the saloon and helps you keep up with your reading. -P.G. Wodehouse
This morning I awoke feeling a like a corpse. I mean I was still dressed up in evening-wear. That, combined with headache, nausea, and the fact I couldn't remember coming home last night led me to believe I drank a bit too much last night. Apparently I was driven home around one, my mom questioned why I was clasping a bottle of Jim Beam in my hand- leading me to flee mutely downstairs, and my sister, Kathryn, and brother tucked me in shortly after- after convincing me to surrender my cell phone so it could be charged, seemingly not without effort.
The night began calmly enough (as these nights tend to do) when my nondrinking buddy, Sam, picked me up. We went to a friend's house where, on invitation, I proceeded to drink half a bottle of Jameson's Irish whiskey without much struggle. Then we went to a friend's apartment where she was throwing a formal party. I latched on to the rye whiskey, and continued to imbibe. After that things grow a little hazy. I vaguely remember being politely rebuffed in my classless attempt at a midnight kiss by one of my best friends (hopefully not "one of my former best friends"); and I remember thinking I needed to slow down on the drinking, then proceeding to make a "cocktail" with equal parts rum and tequila. Yeah.
This morning I feared the worst concerning my behavior, and tried for hours to reach someone who could enlighten me. I finally reached Sam, who confirmed that I had in fact acted like a drunken Norman Mailer at times, but apart from flouting the conventions of friendship (and any human decency) with my forwardness, for which I still feel awful, nothing along the lines of breaking furniture, prophesying on the horrific doom awaiting us viz. The Book of Revelation, or vomiting on others occured. And, reflecting on the fact that I mixed- and drank without reservation- a glass of rum and tequila, I confess my fears were not modest. Even though (or because?) I was in the clink a year ago, my night was much more peaceful; and, when you're lurching your way through a guilty hangover, even that type of peace can be mighty appealing.
This morning I awoke feeling a like a corpse. I mean I was still dressed up in evening-wear. That, combined with headache, nausea, and the fact I couldn't remember coming home last night led me to believe I drank a bit too much last night. Apparently I was driven home around one, my mom questioned why I was clasping a bottle of Jim Beam in my hand- leading me to flee mutely downstairs, and my sister, Kathryn, and brother tucked me in shortly after- after convincing me to surrender my cell phone so it could be charged, seemingly not without effort.
The night began calmly enough (as these nights tend to do) when my nondrinking buddy, Sam, picked me up. We went to a friend's house where, on invitation, I proceeded to drink half a bottle of Jameson's Irish whiskey without much struggle. Then we went to a friend's apartment where she was throwing a formal party. I latched on to the rye whiskey, and continued to imbibe. After that things grow a little hazy. I vaguely remember being politely rebuffed in my classless attempt at a midnight kiss by one of my best friends (hopefully not "one of my former best friends"); and I remember thinking I needed to slow down on the drinking, then proceeding to make a "cocktail" with equal parts rum and tequila. Yeah.
This morning I feared the worst concerning my behavior, and tried for hours to reach someone who could enlighten me. I finally reached Sam, who confirmed that I had in fact acted like a drunken Norman Mailer at times, but apart from flouting the conventions of friendship (and any human decency) with my forwardness, for which I still feel awful, nothing along the lines of breaking furniture, prophesying on the horrific doom awaiting us viz. The Book of Revelation, or vomiting on others occured. And, reflecting on the fact that I mixed- and drank without reservation- a glass of rum and tequila, I confess my fears were not modest. Even though (or because?) I was in the clink a year ago, my night was much more peaceful; and, when you're lurching your way through a guilty hangover, even that type of peace can be mighty appealing.
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