A new writing exercise to investigate the effects of alcohol on writing, which must have a positive effect. Otherwise, why would all the best writers be raging alcoholics? Hemingway, Thompson, Burroughs, Kerouac, etc.
The exercise: write 3 - 5 essays, each 100 - 500 words. 90 minute limit. Choose essay topics from Chuck Klosterman's 23 Questions in Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs. The first essay must be written before consuming alcohol. The second essay can't be started until alcohol has been consumed. Note how much alcohol (and what alcohol) has been consumed for each essay.
* the 23 questions are so cool that I am going to try to answer all of them in later blogs
We are not looking at general quality, but relative quality. We want to see the effects writing under the influence relative to writing without alcohol.
Love and Music
Started: 5:58pm.
Finished: 7:04pm.
Drinks: 0.
Question:
You meet your soul mate. However, there is a catch: Every three years, someone will break both of your soul mate's collarbones with a Crescent wrench, and there is only one thing you can do to stop this from happening: You must swallow a pill that will make every song you hear--for the rest of your life--sound as if its being performed by the band Alice in Chains. When you hear Creedence Clearwater Revival on the radio, it will sound (to your ears) like it's being played by Alice in Chains. If you see Radiohead live, every one of their tunes will sound like it's being covered by Alice in Chains. When you hear a commercial jingle on TV, it will sound like Alice in Chains; if you sing to yourself in the shower, your voice will sound like deceased Alice vocalist Layne Stanley performing a capella (but it will only sound that way to YOU).
Would you swallow the pill?
Answer:
I would NOT take the pill and my "soulmate" would spend a good amount of her life in a wheelchair. Sorry love. It was a sweet love. But I must be traveling on now because I'm as free as a bird now.
Klosterman is asking which life would be preferred: a life without love or a life without music. However, his premise is flawed because there is no such thing as one "soulmate." I had a girl I loved very much and considered a "soulmate." We lived together and she left me and I almost cried for the bitch. We didn't completely stop seeing each other for almost a year after she moved out. I still love her but she is not my only "soulmate." I would estimate there are a dozen or so "soulmates" for any given person in any given city. The number of soulmates in different cities probably fluctuates among global regions depending on how well your personality fits within a certain culture (e.g. my number plunges in European cities while it spikes in Latin America).
Love is more about maturity than it is about the perfect match. There are several compatible matches out there if each partner is emotionally ready for such a commitment. If both partners are confident (not desperate), if both partners are mature enough (finished fucking different people), and if both partners share a genuine affection and trust, then they're "soulmates." That's all it takes. We humans skew toward the monogamous end of the spectrum. Despite our urges to breed with many, it is in our blood to settle down.
Now that we have established that there is no such thing as a "soulmate," we can focus on the apocalyptic nightmare of only hearing one music group forever. This is a life not worth living. I realize others may not be music fanatics like me but everybody has a little bit of soul. I need male and female singers. Alice in Chains can't pull off all genres. I need all kinds of music. Blues, jazz, reggae, hip hop, reggaeton, cumbia, punk. Even emo sometimes. A particularly sweet "soulmate" may be worth one or two genres, but not all of them.
As it's phrased, Klosterman's question is easy to answer but his idea of a tradeoff is not – monogamy in both love and music, or in neither. As much as I believe there are thousands of women out there suitable to marry, procreate and cohabitate with, not having one of them in my endgame is pretty damn scary. So is a life without music. If I couldn't shoot holes in his question and I had to choose love or music, I would choose love. The thought of getting old without a wife and a shitload of family around scares me more than hearing Alice in Chains cover Nina Simone's "Sinnerman".
P.S. I dig Alice in Chains and if that makes me a redneck then FUCK CHUCK KLOSTERMAN.
Clydesdales and Political Prisoners
Start time: 10:30
End time: 11:39
Drinks: About 3 beers: Arequipeña (Peruvian beer similar to American shit), and one shot: anisado (Peruvian anise-flavored spirit, 45% alcohol).
Question:
Let us assume a fully grown, completely healthy Clydesdale horse has his hooves shackled to the ground while his head is held in place with thick rope. He is conscious and standing upright, but completely immobile. And let us assume that--for some reason--every political prisoner on earth (as cited by Amnesty International) will be released from captivity if you can kick this horse to death in less than twenty minutes. You are allowed to wear steel-toed boots.
Would you attempt to do this?
Answer:
Disclosure: I worked for Anheuser-Busch for two years. Budweiser is my favorite American macrobrew.
I would gladly kill the horse. Why only twenty minutes? To scare off the weak of heart? A quick killing seems more humane. Plus, the athletic challenge is inspiring. My hamstrings don't have great flexibility so I can't kick that high, especially wearing steel-toe boots. I hope a tall stepladder would be available so I could football-punt the horse's brain from above. Otherwise, my strategy would be to break its front legs before stomping its skull into bloody hair and bone fragments.
I won't discuss the animal rights angle with too many words. I eat chicken, beef, duck, fish and more. Like most humans, I support slaughter of animals in my behavior and in principle. Killing a horse is no more immoral than eating turkey at Thanksgiving. I'd pay for the opportunity to kill the horse and free the world's political prisoners. This person could potentially affect change on a scale unseen in my lifetime.
The only reservation I'd have pertains to the net effect of releasing all the world's political prisoners. Amnesty International doesn't have a comprehensive list but would probably designate some undesirables as political prisoners. Specifically, detainees in Guantanamo Bay. Cases have surfaced in which innocents were held for years. History will probably judge the Bush administration harshly in this respect. However, many of the detainees are Islamic fundamentalists who don't need to be freed. Would they be considered political prisoners?
At most, there are a few hundred detainees being held in Guantanamo (I'm not researching now). The total number of terrorists held around the world pales in comparison to the number of political reformists held in repressive states like North Korea, Cuba, Myanmar, Saudi Arabia, Zimbabwe, Sudan, China, and the Republic of Equatorial Guinea. If every one of them were released into their home countries at the same time, a human rights revolution for the history books would be underway overnight. Those prisoners have balls unseen in the US since George Washington and company but their governments retain more control than 18th century England did. These people's resistance would create a synergy to truly change the world as did the American Revolution.
I am biased toward democracy. The "state capitalism" models of China and Russia may eventually prove to triumph over traditional liberal governments like the US, UK and Japan. Unlike China and Russia, most repressive states holding political prisoners not only fail to create thriving economies, they fail to effectively feed their people. Some of the most unfortunate people in the world are those who were born into the countries listed. The altruistic decision in this scenario is to kill the fucking horse. Anybody who cares more about the Clydesdale than those countries' reformers should have their current passport revoked and deported. Let them be PETA members in those countries.
Attractive Magicians
Start time: 12:57am
End time: 1:52am
Drinks: 4 – 5 shots anisado, 6 - 8 beers (I'm drunk)
Question:
You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago. The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money. When you ask how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street. You look at this random stranger. The wizard says, "I will now make them a dollar more attractive." He waves his magic wand. Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far as you can tell, nothing is different. But--somehow--this person is suddenly a little more appealing. The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can't deny that this person is vaguely sexier. This wizard has a weird rule, though--you can only pay him once. You can't keep giving him money until he's satisfied. You can only pay him one lump sum upfront.
How much cash do you give the wizard?
Answer:
How much cash would I give the wizard to make me more attractive? Everything in my pockets. Maybe if I were actually in this situation – if it weren't hypothetical – then maybe I would go to an ATM or break out the plastic in another way. But my first impression in this hypothetical exercise is to pay the magician everything in my pockets and not a penny more.
I am an attractive guy. But I have no game. I have no idea about the seduction process. My sex life survives almost solely on my physical attractiveness. The only way I get laid is if women throw it at me or if a girl wants me for a boyfriend so badly that she ignores the unromantic and idiotic shit I say. I would surely do better, with better-looking women, if I were more attractive.
There are many men more attractive than me. There are even more with better game. Everybody wants to be the sexiest person in the room. I do too. I want to be better than those guys. I would pay for it. Everything in my pockets.
Beauty is worth a premium without a Chi-town magician. Breast implants, nose jobs, lip implants, butt implants, liposuction, braces. Many men and women spend countless hours in the gym solely for cosmetic reasons.
There is a fine line between striving for self-improvement and being vain. There is a point where the pursuit of beauty sacrifices self-esteem. I am conscious enough to realize that I was dealt a good hand. I'm quite satisfied with what I was given in the DNA lottery. I don't need to run up my credit cards to look like a model. It's not that important. I'm good where I'm at.
I can understand people who would pay more than I would. I wasn't always fine. I was fat as a kid. Then I was scrawny and baby-faced in high school. I was ignored by girls for most of my life. I remember the mentality of someone who isn't attractive. It sucks. If I was still on that level, I would probably pay the magician more than what I had on me and then some. And I wouldn't judge anybody who would do that now. But I would caution them to not cross that line into self-loathing. Extreme beauty with no confidence or self-esteem isn't hot.
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