Yesterday evening was one of those occasions becoming evermore rare, deemed to be a good time to partake of a little more than a glass or bottle of alcoholic beverage (these days, occasional indulgences). The first glass (of Chardonnay I think) left me feeling pleasantly relaxed, rather mellow. I felt at peace with both myself and the world. But... therein lies the Danger. Why, you may ask? Well, there is, in my humble estimation, a strange logic cum illogic regarding alcohol: from the premise one drink makes you feel good, it is concluded two will double the pleasure, three triple it, and four... well, you get the idea. It doesn't though, as you know.
At some point, probably at the fifth glass, the unwanted realisation of this sad truth pressed upon my consciousness. The logic didn't hold. If it had, at this point I ought to have been hovering in the upper-stratosphere, approaching the gates of Nirvana, if not already there. Alas, the glow had since worn off, leaving only slight depression and guilt feelings for once again succumbing to this false-logic.
Maybe as a young man I should have persevered with marijuana?