A good friend sent me this today, after telling me that he liked yesterday’s blog (which was, admittedly, rather depressing). I didn’t figure that anyone would like yesterday’s blog, but … I’m a writer and I’ll take all the praise you care to heap upon me.
And in that youtube clip, Beaudelaire is quoted:
“You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”
Isn’t that the point of living? In the midst of the day-to-day toiling, the mundane that so often defines existence, find something to get drunk on. Find the joy. Without this hope, there is only time, and it pushes at our backs like a centrifuge. And now, I’m off to get drunk – on sledding and snow and my child.