There are only a select number of activities worth pursuing in any one lifetime. Of course, these activities, pleasures, interests, vices etc. are different for each individual, age group, sex and epoch. Therefore, I decided to list the three things that, I think, make my existence worthwile. First, and it wins by default, is sex. I often wonder what could possibly trump fifteen to thirty minutes of ultimate physical extacy. Thus far I haven’t been capable of finding a suitable replacement. Second is prose, as writing is the ultimate high for those like myself. Those whom like to think, talk and politicize all the time. And third, is Glenrothes, an incredibly delicious and aromatic scotch reserved only for those spiritless of nights; when my penmanship is lacking and ideas flutter through my mind at a thousand miles per hour. These three things, sex, prose and Glenrothes, I can say with confidence that I couldn’t go without. With their absence, life would be intensely boring.
So what about sex? How can one poeticize and describe in the abstract something so physical and messy? Well, in my experience, sex is like taking the first sip of a bottle of twelve year old Aberlour. First, you unwrap the bottle, then you examine the color of the scotch; is it rosy and light or dark and golden with a burgundy blush? then you uncork and take a whif of the contents; it could be spicy and rough or light and aromatic. Then comes the pour and the first taste, is it smooth? or does it leave your throat sore and bruised? And after, down you spiral into either a long and slow sluggfest with your first glass, enjoying every sip, or you gulp every centilitre of the bottle with haste until everything culminates in a roller coaster ride to the heights of pleasure. Sometimes the experience is memorable, sometimes it is fleeting. However, in my own thoughts, sex is as essential to a good and comfortable life as air is to a pair of healthy lungs.
What else can make life less miserale, or less damn boring? For a writer, self-evidently, writing is the activity that never bores, that never disappoints and that never surrenders to mediocrity. There is such a thing as mediocre writing of course, however, a good writer will always improve his craft eventually. If he does not seek to improve his craft, then he is not a good writer. In my case, out of all of the forms which writing can take, prose and more specifically essay writing is the form which I choose to specialize in. Essays are direct, structured and depending on the skill of the writer, can be well organized and intriguing. Thus, an accomplished essayist should be able to argue for and against any position, he should be able to speak just as well as he writes and he should be able to reason and articulate his thoughts with precision and speed. My own opinion is that a seasoned rhetorician’s and essayist’s words, both on paper and in speech, should be sharp, eviscerating, memorable and convincing.
Now on to the final vice, scotch. First, I’ll begin by sharing the reason why I started drinking whisky. One of my preferred author’s, polemicist’s and contrarian’s favorite scotch is Johnnie Walker Black. My initial thinking behind it was: Well, he is definitely a very good writer, and he drinks Johnnie Walker Black when he writes. So, I guess I’ll start sipping some scotch as well. I’ll get into the habbit of having a little bit while writing my essays. In hindsight, I did not need scotch to make me a better writer of course. However, getting into the habits of scotch conoisseurs helped me discover the calming properties of the drink. Picture my thoughts as a million whispering voices fluttering back and forth at an astounding speed. These voices each represent a certain topic, such as constitutional monarchy, socialist revolution, sex, class distinction, the rich poor divide, marriage ceremonies etc. They are all random, all the time, and the voices are so faint that whenever I try to focus on a thought, I can usually only make out a single word. Scotch helps me slow down such thoughts and thus preserve them in their entirety. And the tastiest and most flavorful scotch that I’ve ever had is the Glenrothes.
In conclusion, these three activities of having sex, writing prose in the form of essays and drinking Glenrothes scotch, are the activities that give some purpose and meaning to my life. Without these I would consider life boring and trivial and in most cases unnecessarily painful. Despite the importance of these three examples, I have other motivators in my life that compel me to achieve or to do the best I can in any given situation. Also, it is highly probable that this life, is the only life I have in which I could enjoy such things. So why waste a good eighty to ninety years in chastity, iliteracy and complete soberness? All things in moderation are good. Anything in excess, even sex, prose and Glenrothes could potentially be fatal to the individual. The consequences of too much frivolous sex I don’t need to explain to an educated audience, too much writing could potentially translate into bad writing, and too much Glenrothes can obviously lead to some very nasty life outcomes. This is all common sense. Nevertheless, sex should be had often, prose writing should be practiced by all and Glenrothes should be in every private stash from Canada to Europe to the Middle East.
