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Down Beer Street
6 comments
I think it’s called a bardot collar. I like them too.
Labelling folk is always a very small part of their story. Of course perhaps you’re lucky, maybe you’d be classified as a functioning alchoholic, others are not so fortunate as I’m sure one of your regulars , Futherton, can confirm.
I certainly love that warm sensual gregariousness booze can bring but I wish I could get that way without the hangover that follows.
I’ve only drunk with any regularity in the last decade, but I despise the parsimoniousness; the lack of generosity of those people who stick within the government limits. The colleague who says “My husband wanted to open a bottle last night! I said to him, Duncan, it’s a MONDAY!” Where I live we nearly all drink to the extent that we’d illegal to drive by 8pm (including a 95 year old widow), but only two or three have taken it to health or life-ruining levels.
I can only think that being drunk feels different to everyone else than it does to me. I never associate a ‘good’ feeling with drunkenness. It only ever made me feel sloppy and sick. Sex is the furthest thing on my mind. I wish I could experience that euphoria that apparently everyone else feels. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.
Oh the moneyed women of Lancashire sound wonderful, much like the moneyed women of my suburb, it’s like a living, breathing art gallery, my fucking over-active imagination can give me random hard-ons just watching them…
I’ve worked with many functioning alcoholics, my grandfather was one, today it seems like society likes to label everything, as if we all need our little ailments or mental health issues, we wear them like a badge, i’m sure at some point in my life i made the requirements for alky, i’ve always been to lazy to be an alcoholic though, i’ve always preferred drugs, it’s just booze was always readily available, i don’t really drink much anymore, i much prefer other things, and while everyone bashes the heavy drinker all the soccer moms are posting about their favorite cocktail, i touched on this recently, how in America i couldn’t sit around and talk about my favorite strains of weed but it’s all cool to talk booze, except of course if your’re a boozehound, but fuck the squares, they’ll never understand the joys of boundless drinking and drugging, you good man have a pint for me…
Someone somewhere has got that job. You, on the other hand, have got a lot of cider. I think we know who’s the real winner here.
Isabelle: Thanks, I’ll have to store that one up to bring out at the right time. Or maybe not. I come across as gay without using phrases that refer to types of collars on women’s clothes.
I read Furtheron’s blog partly because I find his experience difficult to understand, and I’m interested in understanding the psychological background of his version of addiction.
Homer: Oh dear, poor Duncan! I like watching the sozzled posh Gogglebox couple. Sure they’re probably needing a taxi by 8pm too!
Exile: I wonder whether you’ve got that gene that’s common in SE Asia where your body rejects alcohol. Slightly unusual for an old mitteleuropäische such as yourself though :)
kono: Thank you very much! I will raise the next glass of Rioja (already open) to you.
I always think it’s wrong that we can drink ourselves legally to oblivion in public, but we can’t rack up a nice couple of sociable lines on the table in the pub.
J-P: Thank you. That’s a good way of looking at it.
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