Atheist Meditations

Listening to 'Moon & Sand' channel on Rhapsody, West Coast jazz. Nice stuff. My neck itches. Haven't shaved in three days. My mind's been encumbered by a species of disquiet of late. No continuity of thoughts has blessed my day; novel observations, annoying obligations, and whatnots fire off from my brain in all sorts of directions. If thoughts be like a flock of birds, when one of mine takes off the rest do not follow.

Is that all that consciousness is? The following of one thought after another - or maybe a jazzy harmony of thoughts - that believes it understands where they are all going? Or, maybe it is the experience/expectation of being able to control your thoughts. That's an Idea with literary antecedent. The great man who sets his mind to seemingly impossible tasks and triumphs with
overwhelming determination. Perhaps a bit of true wisdom has been hidden away in the written word.

I suppose I'm not being nearly precise enough in my syntax. I suppose medically, consciousness is defined as being aware of one's surroundings and responsive to stimuli.

I still got that.

Within the Virtue of Full Disclosure, I have to admit the One Beer Covenant didn't fucking live up to the hype. Too bad, cuz I thought all that shit about Two Loves, One Beer was worthing of getting tatoo'd somewhere on me body. Just fell off that wagon. The groovy shackles of Mistress Addiction were clearly getting a bit too heavy. A bit too obvious.

This weekend I fell back on a technique I've had good success with in the past. Often we overindulge a hair during the glorious Gemuetlichkeit of Oktoberfest in Minnesota. Where the local liquor stores fill with rich, complex beers packaged in colors as bright and fine as our autumnal foliage. Good times, good friends. A man just has to sample them all.

So then I just quit drinking for the rest of the year. Advantage one: the cessation of boozation is finite. Rather than the flawed One Beer Covenant when I was forced to endure the chronic understanding that I would never again experience a Billy Joel-esque 'belly full a beer.' Here I just have to set my sights on New Years Eve, when I get to make the ironic resolution to start drinking again. I'd even reckon a short stint of irresponsible behavior should be permitted after such a display of will. Advantage two: I save a lot of money right before the Holidays which makes buying dinners and gifts much less of a strain. Also, with Cindy's family's notion that Thanksgiving means cramming every member of the family into the same house until nerves are rubbed raw - I'm just saying it don't hurt to have a little extra self-control in the hidden reserves.

So that's about it. We're nearing the end of day three, so I'm relatively sure hospitalization won't be necessary this time. More than anything I'm just a little bored.

Change is good. Altering the routines and experiencing new perspectives drives the creative and spiritual drives. Anything to avoid the zombification of obsessive compulsive behavior.

Peace out.

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