:: Prohibition mission ::

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Dry July

Mine has been a fairly comfortable existence objectively. I've lived the coddled life of an upper-middle-class prepster free from the crushing responsibility of having to raise children or ultimately make ends meet. There have been no past-due statements, no alimony suits, no back-alley abortions in my past, just summer internships, college applications, and the pursuit of frequent-flyer miles. I've set myself up for the long coast into retirement and beyond; despite having misguided punk-rock ambitions to bar brawl and passing fantasies of stalking the elusive chevrotain on the Malay peninsula, I seem to be navigating a steady coarse due bland by comfy-bland. I won't shed any tears. My kids will have braces and Air Jordan MCMV's and I'm ok with that, even if I won't be the dad breaking out the scar he got from single-handedly subduing a rabid Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder (who, having become power-mad at the 2014 G10 summit after injecting himself with a secret Bundeswehr performance-enhancing serum, will rampage through the idyllic village of Peoria Illinois, uprooting trees and buying every available title on Oprah's book club [which, in the year 2014, will have subsumed all other book clubs as well as most public libraries and even some regional branches of Arby's] from stores along his swath of destruction/spending) at the neighborhood bbq's.

There's a tie though, that binds us bourgeois drones with the abject poor and the idle rich. Not to put too fine a point on it, but: booze.

Since around my 18th birthday, perhaps even before that, I haven't gone a single week without consuming an alcoholic beverage of some kind, and I do not believe my situation to be atypical amongst my peers. Don't get me wrong, I mind it very little, but the temptation to buck the trend had become irresistible. Can I muster the willpower to abstain from all alcoholic consumption for a month? If I can shove off the rummy yoke of social convention, is there a chance I might escape the Sisyphean routine awaiting me these next few decades (short answer: no)?

It is with no small amount of trepidation then that I officially announce, one week into the month in question, Dry July. Do not fear, I will later compensate with the Bender in September, but tempt me no more until August.

Totally unrelated: what's everybody up to on Saturday night, 7/31, about 11:59 pm?

Posted by morland @ 07:22 PM

:: Comments ::

I bet you can do it. Today marks an entire year without smoking the cigarettes. It's pretty easy, but watch out. You'll be tempted to go to bars, given that it's the thing that people tend to do. Who knows? Maybe you'll become a straightedge goth. Which reminds me. Do you still only wear black? Because that would mean that you're already halfway there.

Posted by: the guy who lived in vail on July 7, 2004 08:08 PM

and buying every available title on Oprah's book club

who knew the future would be so bleak?

about dry july, you should wait a week or two, then it'll be a cinch. hell, on the last day of this month around midnight is when I'm instituting my dry july, that way I'll be sure to get it.

in all seriousness, don't get preachy and start talking about step four or making amends to people you wronged, they deserved it.

Posted by: X @ on July 8, 2004 01:25 AM

Will dry July also involve an effort to cut down on nocturnal emissions? Just curious.

Posted by: Morland's pajamas on July 8, 2004 09:25 AM

sleepers are for sleeping

Posted by: X @ on July 10, 2004 05:12 AM

- Post a comment -

« Crown thy hood | Main | Silver lining »