For the last 3 days, I have been eating like it’s a holiday. What I mean is that I am looking forward to leftovers after the big meal. Kim makes the *best* pulled pork BBQ, and with cole slaw on top, potato salad (with bacon!) on the side. I have been eating until I am miserable. This meal leaves me with some kind of contentment too though. Even at my fullest I still feel this warm joy at the aftertaste. It’s telling me “you could eat another bite of potato salad. Fork up that bit there with the bacon sticking out. No no no, Do it.” I wish I had pictures of the feast but I’m too busy trying to finish it off.
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One should always be drunk. That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden; one which breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without cease.
But with what? With wine, poetry, or virtue as you choose. But get drunk.
And if, at some time, on steps of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the bleak solitude of your room, you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated, ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock, all that which flees, all that which groans, all that which rolls, all that which sings, all that which speaks, ask them, what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock, they will all reply:
"It is time to get drunk!
So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk, get drunk, and never pause for rest! With wine, poetry, or virtue, as you choose!"
Charles Baudelaire




















You don’t have to lie to make friends, Matt. Or to be fed.