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. Tuesday, July 06, 2004I need to like coffee and alcohol. It does not seem to be a regular item on most "to do for self-improvement" lists, but the fact is, because I find neither alluring or fit for my personal consumption, my social advancement is being obstructed as a result. First, coffee.
I've noticed that a common opening line suggests getting a coffee. How do I respond without committing to an inaccuracy? Going the way of honesty results in some terrible utterance like "I'm sorry, I hate coffee, but please, like Calgon, take me away"? If I should submit, what do I do once I am in the coffeehouse? Mochas, lattes, frappucinos, javas, espressos ... Italian is the descendant of Latin, yes, but the Romans unfortunately kept to water and wine. I have had one coffee in my life. It tasted precisely what it was -- brewed beans. The gag reflex kicked in as advertised and at that moment I developed a counter-instinct towards coffee. I also have a natural aversion towards drinks that require additives. I have my tea and my milk, but apart -- a simplicity and conservatism that seems to permeate every aspect of my life. Second, alcohol. The members of my social circle, one by one, are entering that stage where alcohol has been opened to them, and experimentation and bubbling discussions about ideal mixes are abound. Smirnoff's, Everclear, Bailey's, shooters, coolers ... and I sit there, like a stone, staring ahead, holding onto my juice, Coke, water, whatever that is keeping me apart. It's difficult to ignore that distinct feeling that I have been left out, and more difficult not to flaunt moral superiority as a way of dealing with that isolation. Naturally, then, the resentment begins to run both ways, slowly thickening into a poison. Strangest of all is that I have this thought, this intellectual though not "gut" urge, to join them. That I should. That why shall I not enjoy myself, and submit to these alleged effects, melting away tension, and stiff lips? I have been told. I am a "downer." A "prude." I am "uptight." Therefore, shouldn't I in fact have the greatest need to partake? And yet while there may be a need, I have no real want. I don't want alcohol. I want conversation, laughter, all that used to come just fine without any 80 proof aid. But, now, there's something wrong with that. No, don't say "But you are a prude, Gloria"! This is my blog -- I expect to be pampered, to be indulged, to be humoured with pitying sympathy. A pat on the back and a reassuring "Naturally, naturally, m'dear" -- that's what I want. posted at 1:04:13 am
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2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture. home | contact | profile art blogging body childhood consumerism dream durr family fashion film history humour internet language lit nerd people poetry rant romance school sex social relations toronto ttc work
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