Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Extremes sell books, I suppose.  A Times article about the Hachette Amazon dispute mentions a reformed alcoholic, a punk rocker, now a long distance runner who's become a hit in the field of Kindle Singles.  New York style writing, if there is such a thing, bold, in your face, gritty.

Sometimes after a shift I wake up foggy, a dry mouth, throb in the head.  Oh, yes, I rode my bike for an hour, consumed a bottle of Beaujolais, 12% alcohol, and then I had a half a rye ale with a burger before bed.  Oh, yes, had a shot of Jameson's for old times sake with an old bar friend we hadn't seen in a while, who's a campaign organizer for the mayoral run, a gentlemanly tradition.  I probably had a glass while I consumed a small plate of citrus-cured salmon and half of a chicken cheesesteak-style sandwich (failing to avoid the bread) my coworker was kind enough to leave me.  Always starving at the end of a shift.

There is nothing dramatic about it.  Red wine, my blood type diet D'Adamo book tells, is good for me, more or less.  And I swear there are magical compounds in it that bring to it the good chemistry of being out in the countryside, just as going to the woods can instantly smooth jangled nerves.  Even if we can't exactly name these magical chemical evocations of the nature and land from which a wine comes, as if concocted by medieval hermits with a good intuitive sense of health.  Perhaps it's like epsom salts.  We know of the good influences for the bloodstream, lower plague and cholesterol.  I've heard of trace earth elements found particularly in wine from volcanic soil such as platinum having a chemotherapeutic effect against cancers.  I wouldn't doubt it, like that Times piece about the guy who goes back to Greece to die, idles away his time in a vineyard, eats off the land, and forgets to die.

So how to parse out the good and bad effects for you personally?  There are no extremes to write about, no hitting rock bottom, nor any great heights, just is what it is.  Occasional headache from a higher alcohol Ventoux, not enough hydration.

Wine, yes, has been the source of many good conversations, many great and real friendships, not the least between the writer and his mother.  Wine offers a release into the arena of one's own vulnerability and imperfections is, like yoga, somehow good for you, a growing experience, a recalibration of general health as is found in dreaming.

Issues in life--probably most of us have them.  They are complicated.  There's aren't any obvious extremes, unfortunately, gratefully.

To be continued.  Off to work.

Wisdom, true wisdom, like that of the Buddha's, is infinite, applicable to all wounds.

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