I feel like most good writers were drunks.
Or at least they abused something. Drugs, alcohol, women, men, life, whatever.
I’m finding it exceedingly difficult to type without errors at the moment. This is my first somewhat drunk post. I feel like this is on par with drunk dials or the slightly newer drunk texts.
I recently watched Deconstructing Harry – my favorite Woody Allen film for all of its faults. It seems to me the one with the least pretense. My friend told me that his parents told him that it was not something he’d like. Usually that means that I too would dislike it. Instead, this time, it just means that I have a tougher time getting other people to watch it with me. His folks usually have pretty good judgment at least as far as movies are concerned.
Regardless, I love this movie. It’s both a good story and an excellent way to tell one. Way to go Woody Allen. It’s about an author who has pretty much wasted his life fucking his way around the alphabet and drinking – primarily whisky which is how I connect to this character. I tend not to sleep around. I, however, love whisky like someone stuck in the midst of a sandstorm in the Sahara loves water. I don’t know why. I didn’t even see a Bogart movie until after I found I had this affinity.
Bottom line, Harry, the protagonist in this flick, played by Woody Allen (of course), is awful. The entire movie culminates (in my opinion) when he (spoiler alert) has a discussion with the devil about who has fucked who while trying to re-kidnap his lover.
Way to go, says I.
I don’t mess around much, but I can understand those who do. It’s all about context in my opinion. I tend to care about my own opinion more after most of my flask is gone. Point is: In this, as in most things, context is king. So what if a fellow or lady has been to bed with more folk than they can easily count on their appendages – so long as there is context for all. Sex takes place in the moment. So why does criticism about sex take place outside of that moment? If no regrets are in play, by all means, enjoy.
And so on.
One of my favorite episodes of The West Wing – my all-time favorite TV show – is called, “dead Irish writers”. The episode involved a fight between the Communications Director (Toby) and the British Ambassador (Lord John Marbury) about a spokesman for the IRA (Brendan McGann). What follows is one of my favorite pieces of dialogue written for television:
MARBURY
Toby, you were the author, were you not, of the President's speech at the General Assembly?
TOBY
There were many authors.
MARBURY
Of which you were one. Two days ago, the IRA formally backed out of its promise to put its weapons beyond use...
TOBY
I--
MARBURY
...as agreed to in the Good Friday Peace Accord. True/False: Until it disarms the IRA and its political representatives in Sinn Fein are a terrorist group.
TOBY
True.
MARBURY
When did it become policy of the United States to negotiate with terrorists?
TOBY
We've had Arafat here, John.
MARBURY
And, my heaven, isn't that paying bloody dividends.
TOBY
It wasn't worth trying?
MARBURY
You're making the mistake of youth.
TOBY
The President's not a kid.
MARBURY
Your country is. You're involving yourself in a centuries-old conflict without sufficient regard for history. Listen to the warning of old friends. It was Kipling who warned to expect "the blame of those ye better, and the hate of those ye guard."
TOBY
And wasn't it James Joyce who said, "History is a nightmare from which I'm trying to awake."
MARBURY
Yes, but it was your own great Irish master, Eugene O'Neill who said, "There is no present or future, only the past happening over and over again -- now."
TOBY
You're saying we should butt out of Ireland until we know what we're doing?
MARBURY
I'm saying Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House.
TOBY
[pause] Say, speaking of dead Irish writers...
MARBURY
Yes. Another drink.
(http://communicationsoffice.tripod.com/3-15.txt)
See what I mean?
I feel like it is somewhat necessary at the moment to add a disclaimer - in case my family or some of my less close friends end up finding this blog. I am not a drunk. My grandmother was once a drunk, from what I hear, as was my grandfather for a time. I am not in the habit of getting drunk often or regularly. I do, however, enjoy the occasional recreational half a bottle of whisky or so.
The point of this post, if one can be ferreted from among the muck and drivel of my various trains of thought that seem to have crashed and spilled their contents all over this blog, is that there seems to be a correlation between those who are prone to addiction and early greatness (usually followed by a period gently referred to as "crash and fucking burn"). So, well done Woody Allen!
I loved that movie.
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