“Will you respect me in the morning?”


“Will you still love me tomorrow?”

Gentlemen, have you ever been asked that?  Then consider yourself lucky–because I never have.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I don’t need your respect, and I don’t need your love.

I only need your appreciation.

Have you ever read “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”, by John Gray?  Then don’t.

It’s just a dumbed-down version of “Men, Women and Relationships”, by John Gray–which I highly suggest you read.  If you read this book, “Men, Women and Relationships”, you’ll understand why I need only your appreciation.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a “drunken post”.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to afford to eat dinner with others–thus a long time since I’ve had any alcohol.  For I only drink on these occasions. 

I would discard my goddamned psych meds, and drink alcohol every day–if I were certain I wouldn’t end up an honest-to-God alcoholic–which I define, not as someone who drinks at all, but only as someone who is truly addicted to alcohol.

And I’m not.  I am addicted to nicotine–and will be, the rest of my existence.  It’s a physical addiction.  Every day, I crave a cigarette at some point.  But I know if I start smoking again, I’ll start being violently awakened, every night, by a coughing fit that will make my head ache, and never seem to stop.  Some call it COPD–maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.  But the last time I had a cigarette was September 4, 2007, and I haven’t had one since–for the same reason I quit the first time (in my twenties)–that horrible, agonizing, midnight cough–not the fear of cancer, not even the cost of cigarettes, but that damned cough.

If you smoke, and cannot quit, I completely understand.  And I cannot possibly judge you–for I know how difficult it is to quit.  It is now known that nicotine is more addictive than cocaine and heroin.

But if you’ve never smoked in your life–please, for your sake, never start.  Because if you become addicted, as most smokers do, you will be addicted the rest of your life.

No, I’m not addicted to alcohol.  Could I become so?  Of course.  This is why I only drink alcohol when eating dinner with others–and the same night, after I’ve already had alcohol.  In other words, I never drink alcohol if I’ve drank it the day or night before.  That’s how one becomes an alcoholic.

I am however, actively addicted to caffeine–which means I don’t resist my addiction to caffeine, but consume as much caffeine as I jolly well please (almost exclusively in the form of coffee) every day.  Caffeine is the only substance I truly abuse.  But that’s okay–because it replaces nicotine.  Caffeine gives me the same “high” that nicotine did.  If I had no coffee (or at least tea), I’d start smoking again.  Caffeine can be dangerous, especially if you have high blood pressure, as I do.  Yet my psychiatrist and psychologist both assure me there are far more dangerous things to be addicted to.

You may ask, “Why is he revealing all this personal stuff?”

Yet that’s the beauty of alcohol–it allows you to reveal whatever you jolly well please! 

And you can always delete it the next day–put the “drunken post” in the trash, and empty the trash.

Yet I probably won’t.

“A wise man speaks because he has something to say; a fool speaks because he has to say something.”

I love that!

And honestly–like everyone else perhaps–I am sometimes a wise person, and sometimes just a fool!

But that’s okay!

This is National Poetry Month.  I’d forgotten about that–and was just reminded of it a moment ago.  Last April, I posted every poem I’d ever written, as I recall. 

Yet I have no new poetry to post this time.  I’ve been writing poetry, fiction, and nonfiction since college.  In fact, I majored in English/creative writing. 

But I’m tired of it.  I’ve had very little of what I’ve written published.  If I ever have enough money, I’m going to self-publish everything I’ve ever written–then sell my publication(s) on Amazon.com, for a song.  Then I can move on, and write new poetry and prose. 

Till then, though, let me end this “drunken post” with the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read.  It was written by Jelaluddin Balkhi (now known as Rumi), a Persian poet born in the year 1207, in what is now Afghanistan. 

Rumi was–in my opinion–the greatest poet ever–even greater than Shakespeare.  I can never write poetry to equal that of Rumi–nor can anyone else.  There is no such thing as perfection, in poetry–or any other art, for that matter–but Rumi’s poetry is the closest to perfect poetry ever written. 

This is just one of his poems (translated by Coleman Barks)– discovered by me in the Poet Robert Bly’s self-help masterpiece, “Iron John: A Book about Men” (a life-changing book, required reading for every man, and suggested reading for every woman).  It is translated by Coleman Barks, and it’s just the tip of the most mind-expanding iceberg you’ll ever encounter.  For much more, I highly recommend “The Essential Rumi”, edited by Coleman Barks, and translated by Coleman Barks and others.

One word of warning for American men: Don’t use this as an icebreaker for meeting women.  I’ve used it numerous times, and it has always failed.  The reason it doesn’t work is that most American women in this goddamned Digital Age are just too goddamned stupid to understand it, let alone appreciate it (in fairness, most American men probably are too).  But enough ranting–here it is:

Come to the Garden in spring.

There is wine, and sweethearts in the pomegranate blossoms.

If you do not come, these do not matter.

If you do come, these do not matter.

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