Tag Archives: drinking

25 Reasons To Drink (An Abbreviated List)

25 Reasons To Drink (An Abbreviated List)

A professor of mine asked the class to come up with twenty-five reasons to drink as an assignment. This is what I came up with.

  1. Because people understand what you’re saying too easily otherwise, and putting on a slur keeps them on their toes.
  2. Because vomit stains will give your shoes that artsy, unique look you’ve been going for.
  3. Because you’re a great admirer of tile, carpet, and wood flooring, and passing out drunk helps keep you close to the things you love.
  4. Because pants are a prison for your legs and booze will set you free.
  5. Because dive bars are a great place to meet successful, productive, like-minded people to network with.
  6. Because you really cherish the engaging, thought-provoking conversations you have with the guy behind the counter at the liquor store as a highlight of your day.
  7. Because waiting for the liquor store to open at six AM reminds you of waiting for Santa Claus at Christmas as a kid and it’s nice to reminiscence sometimes.
  8. Because you really want to believe her when she tells you she’s eighteen.
  9. Because bar fights are a great substitute for cardio.
  10. Because you want to be the most enthusiastic fan at your kids’ little league games, and getting ejected from the stands for disorderly conduct shows how invested you are in their athletic endeavors. Read the rest of this entry

No Nostalgia Sundays: Exorcising The Spirits Of ’77

No Nostalgia Sundays: Exorcising The Spirits Of ’77

I’m a punk kid—-always have been and always will be. I may dress a little nicer and hide my tattoos a little better, but at my core, I still hold the punk rock ethos dear. It molded me in my formative years and proved the launching pad for which I got into other schools of music, art, and literature.

When I got into punk rock as a teenager, there was an unhealthy dose of hero worship that came along with it. I wanted to be just like all of the cats that I listened to on wax, particularly the 1977 ones: Joe Strummer, Johnny Thunders, James Chance, et al were my teachers, and I was an apt pupil. Aesthetically, musically, and, most importantly, philosophically, I tried to follow suit as best as I could. In hindsight, I missed a few key things.

For one, most of these guys either died tragically or withered away into anti-prolific obscurity. For two, it wasn’t 1977 and I wasn’t in New York or London, man. That didn’t matter though: I was for all intents and purposes an honorary member of that time and place, at least as far as I was concerned.

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