I just finished dinner. It was a filet of sockeye salmon from Alaska and a salad made from lettuce we have grown here on the island. I also had some steamed broccoli from an unknown source.
It – the dinner - was assisted by the better part of a bottle of cheap cabernet sauvignon from Columbia Crest.
At dinner’s completion I felt fortified enough to come back to your email, which I received earlier today.
I am really glad that you are drinking.
I may not be quite so glad about the spirit, or quantity that you appear to be bringing to the project, but the base fact is, I believe a positive one.
But then I voted for Ronald Reagan.
So I probably shouldn’t be commenting on anything, let alone something as important as the balance of someone’s life. Especially when that balance belongs to someone important to me, and important despite the massive multi-year silence that for reasons I can’t understand descended upon the relationship.
So why should I be telling that person, that relationship, that drinking (again or still?) is a good thing?
Instinct, I guess.
I know not, except from my own self concept, but I THINK that a lot of us feel as you do.
If you were to read Screen Saver from front to back sequentially, I believe you would see that that is how I feel – that we - you and I, among a small host that I know of - should have been acknowledged to have been, or maybe even were, more significant than the fates have given us credit for.
I just choose to say “what the fuck” and keep forging ahead, either toward oblivion or toward fame.
Given the time left, and my track record to date, the latter seems more likely.
As for you, you apparently have chosen to brood.
I think both approaches to the problem have their place.
In any event, I am glad that someone is actually reading my memoir, albeit cafeteria style.
I think I’ll finish the wine.