My Name is Øl
Or cerveza, or pivo, or bier, or just plain beer. The many names of beer. Øl, pronounced "url", is what you'd call a cold one in Oslo or Copenhagen, and Öl over in Stockholm- same pronunciation.
But whatever you call it, there's still that great taste. Particularly cold. And the buzz that follows. So whatever you call it: cerveza, pivo, bier, øl, öl or beer, you'll be slurring your pronunciation of it after awhile..
"Get stoned and see God", a friend of mine used to say, "but get drunk and be the Master of the Universe". We were 19 at the time, and this great pronouncement came amid great smoking and drinking. The optimum state of mind, I'd guess, was a sort of pickled Sahaj Samadhi, a numbed-out pseudo-Omnipotence right before one passed out for the evening.
Well that's what you do when you're 19. It's what I did when I was 19 at any rate, joined by other 19-or-so-year-old's... Never did feel like Master of the Universe, nor did I see God. I did get pretty drunk and pretty stoned though. On one such occasion, stoned out of my gourd I had a dream Jesus was in. Well, yeah, that's another blog. Another time.
As far as this blog-- right now--, I also remember, around the same age or maybe a year older, playing a gig for a group of Doctors. The beer was flowing freely, and I observed them as they got drunk. Whatever education and culture they started out with at the beginning of the evening they apparently pissed out because after a couple hours they sounded more like stevedores!
I remember thinking, "wow, alcohol sure is a great equalizer!" Whatever our veneer of erudition and culture, we can piss it out of ourselves, to where we're right down to that crude center, our "drunken Child". Been there myself of course, and found myself either jubilant or maudlin, frequently both. And for many, a much darker side emerges.
Why didn't Hitler drink Tequila?
It made him mean.
But seriously folks. I like my Corona. Like any part of one's diet, it must be kept in check--after all, I'm not 19 anymore, and haven't been for almost 34 years--but still enjoyed. At this point in the game, it's more important how you feel the next morning, since on 5 of them every week I have a job I have to go to. So on occasion I'll have 4 or 5 beers in an evening, not enough to be dangerous but enough to cop a mild euphoria. I guess that's as close as I'll get to being Master of the Universe.
But whatever you call it, there's still that great taste. Particularly cold. And the buzz that follows. So whatever you call it: cerveza, pivo, bier, øl, öl or beer, you'll be slurring your pronunciation of it after awhile..
"Get stoned and see God", a friend of mine used to say, "but get drunk and be the Master of the Universe". We were 19 at the time, and this great pronouncement came amid great smoking and drinking. The optimum state of mind, I'd guess, was a sort of pickled Sahaj Samadhi, a numbed-out pseudo-Omnipotence right before one passed out for the evening.
Well that's what you do when you're 19. It's what I did when I was 19 at any rate, joined by other 19-or-so-year-old's... Never did feel like Master of the Universe, nor did I see God. I did get pretty drunk and pretty stoned though. On one such occasion, stoned out of my gourd I had a dream Jesus was in. Well, yeah, that's another blog. Another time.
As far as this blog-- right now--, I also remember, around the same age or maybe a year older, playing a gig for a group of Doctors. The beer was flowing freely, and I observed them as they got drunk. Whatever education and culture they started out with at the beginning of the evening they apparently pissed out because after a couple hours they sounded more like stevedores!
I remember thinking, "wow, alcohol sure is a great equalizer!" Whatever our veneer of erudition and culture, we can piss it out of ourselves, to where we're right down to that crude center, our "drunken Child". Been there myself of course, and found myself either jubilant or maudlin, frequently both. And for many, a much darker side emerges.
Why didn't Hitler drink Tequila?
It made him mean.
But seriously folks. I like my Corona. Like any part of one's diet, it must be kept in check--after all, I'm not 19 anymore, and haven't been for almost 34 years--but still enjoyed. At this point in the game, it's more important how you feel the next morning, since on 5 of them every week I have a job I have to go to. So on occasion I'll have 4 or 5 beers in an evening, not enough to be dangerous but enough to cop a mild euphoria. I guess that's as close as I'll get to being Master of the Universe.
posted by Roger U Roundly at 10:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home