The best art is made by a joyful soul. Alcohol is no replacement for meditation and directly confronting insecurities. Always drink with friends that you would trust sober.
The timing of this post is not a coincidence.
No: I’m not going to edit that post, it’s freaking hilarious. My hope is that you read it in a drunken Canadian accent. Then you are off to the races. 😀
The topic of suffering and starving artists has been on my mind for a while and now is likely the best time to post about it.
In the metaphor of this blog, you are the boat. You are the sailing ship that navigates the seven seas to get to the temple of truth. This post is about plugging the holes in your ship and pumping the bilge.
Alcoholism and Art do not mix.
No not drink and write. (Says the guy who wrote yesterday. Ha-ha.) Drinking is for enjoying the company of friends.
But let’s be real, you already know all that. Your problem isn’t a lack of knowledge regarding alcohol, in fact you probably know more than me.
Everyone I’ve ever met has a deep rooted pain buried in their chest like they’ve been impaled by a tree. All you can ever hope to do is painfully remove each sliver with tweezers and drop them in a glass jar.
Don’t water the impaling tree with Alcohol. You’ve got to get it out.
Suffering artists, weather it be the sleep deprived doctor or the titular drunken writer are terrible lies. Your best work and your best life happens when you don’t need drugs to tolerate the pain.
Closely related are starving artists. You can’t live on a diet of paint.
One of the best painters in the entire world is a man named John James Audubon. Here is a link to many if not all of his paintings. I love his work and bird lovers the world over love his work. I can rant and rave about how brilliant a painter he was but.
There’s always a but.
He never learned to balance his life and his life’s calling. He lived for many years just painting, all of his small stipend went to buying paint. (I don’t believe he ate paint, it was Van Gogh that ate his paints later in his life)
This undoubtedly cut many years from his life. Which means he has angered God, the muses, or the universe (take your pick). He was put on this earth and he chose his life’s calling to paint birds. But because he didn’t love himself first, his life’s calling became his death’s calling. I am grateful for his work. If I knew him I would tell him to be healthy first.
And that’s why I’m here really, you might be in John James Audubon’s situation, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you to love yourself first.
You can’t pour from an empty cup.
Context for Yesterday’s post.
After much recollection, I can give some context for the drunken crying rant yesterday.
Covid 19 meant that I haven’t seen my friends for six months on top of three months already. In that time, my best friend got married and Covid stole the opportunity from me to be at his wedding. In the last two days, I took the risk and went to see them.
I meet up with him and his wife and we drank a lot. In total I had eight drinks. Four beer bottles and four fancy drinks. The fancy drinks were double shots of hard liquor in content.
I’m not entirely sure, but I think the waitress cut us off at the last fancy drink so it might have only been seven drinks. We drank a water to pace ourselves half way through. We ate two orders of chicken tenders to also pace ourselves.
We got back home safely and slowly. Being quiet to respect our neighbors. The brew house being a short walk away from my friend’s apartment. I would trust these two people with my life sober.
Got back home, wrote drunk for two hours, watched star trek.
Woke up at 5:30 and started writing again without a hangover. Odd.
I’m going for a morning jog.