There's alot of significance behind a nasty hangover the morning after. I don't mean to wax on philosophically about the consequences of a night of binge drinking, but it's definitely reflective of where I am as of late. In college, I drank. ALOT. Since then, I still drink just as heavily as I did in the past, and what's worse is that my recovery speed is much slower. The process is also more painful. I am reminded of a recent interview Norman Mailer gave to Playboy where he talks about defacation.
" As a small premise, think of people who are terribly prudish about evacuation. They don't want to think about it, don't talk about it, it's beneath them, they hope it is terribly far away from them. I'd say, ethically speaking, that's not a comfortable way to be. Far better that when you're sitting on the throne- parenthetically it's interesting that we have that metaphor, 'the throne', precisely for the toilet- when you're sitting on the throne, you do well to be regal about it and enjoy the sniffs of your own waste. Smell your own shit and decide for yourself if you're a little more healthy or a little more unhealthy than you thought you were the last time you sat down. That's part of being close to yourself. You take this notion that what comes out of you may be unpleasant, but it is certainly real. It can be the nearest we come to a fact."I've got to admit, I like taking my time in the proverbial throne. I have to say, as of late, what I've found is very unpleasant. I'm decrepit, and I have got to change this. Growing up is a bitch.