thursday: wondering about wonderful

16/09/2010 § Leave a comment

Rolling into bed with the expectation of a morning’s headache: Spaghetti with chorizo-bolognese and a bottle of Australian wine brought to you by a half-Australian, half-Canadian friend and chocolate cupcakes fresh baked because of a photo shoot of a girl in just an apron in the kitchen. Sitting in the autumnal chill into the wee hours of an early night, as 6AM is when the brain clicks on. This is going to hurt, you think.

Some people choose their poison well. They can act as a catalyst that encourage one’s finer traits.

“Yeah, I function really well on booze. I like the drink. I tend to giggle a lot. Whereas weed makes me paranoid and over-analytical, booze lets me be me, but just a more hilarious version. Uninhibited to laugh at myself, you know?”

“Yup. I’m guessing weed makes you paranoid, makes you think too much, and leaves you burnt-out for 3 days?”

“Yup. I think what we ought to do or drink or not do or not drink is all bologna anyways.”


My friend, B-rent, spoke about his friends that are high-functioning pot-heads, chronics. They smoke anywhere from a couple of grams to a half ounce of weed a day. Something about the lethargy calms their body and mind. The high lets them touch down.

Surprisingly, this morning my head did not hurt. I felt fresh and invigorated despite the consumption. It reminded me of times not too long ago, when every Thursday afternoon I would roll into work and greet my friend with a hug.

“Hola, Jameson!”

“How you feeling? Maggy is feeling the bottles of wine you guys polished off last night. She is a little hangover, hehe.”

“Surprisingly, I feel great.”

Perhaps it was because it was Thursday, and it has always been my favourite day.

Still, our motives behind our actions puzzle me. There are not only things that we just like, but crave. Everyday I want butter. A dollop of salty fat spread onto anything. I like when I watch it melt, leaving a glistening rink on a fresh baked bun. I remember being fiendish for butter since I was a kid, spreading it thick on the heel of white bread and dipping it into a steamy bowl of chili or spaghetti sauce.

Some people don’t like butter. It does not react well with them. It leads to breakouts and heart murmurs and an overall dissatisfaction of the ensuing guilt. Perhaps, those people should not eat butter.

Talking with a small group of friends, we discussed the phenomenon of de-naturalization: the one where we stopped listening to our bodies. They brought up that we do listen to our animal cravings, but where we are lost is questioning the reason behind it. Some people crave sugar, some salt, some fat, some all of the above. But, why? Once you understand it, then you can love and accept it.

Butter is the nostalgic access to my salty tendencies. Wine has a syrupy sweetness — one that leaves my head light and my face rosy — that reminds me of old Wednesday nights with good food and a good person. After I indulge, my body is still bewildered at feeling wonderful. Perhaps they give me warm feelings, ones that melt my heart and mouth, but not in my hands. Perhaps I am a high-functioning butter&booze chronic. Or, perhaps I feel wonderful because it’s Thursday.


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