The Preamble

Today we begin an experiment in humanity. Today, you and I together will step out to the edge. We will push the envelope. Today marks Day One of an imposed sobriety, and I'm taking you with me.

The Buildup

I like to drink. I like to drink because it's a social lubricant, because it's entertaining. People tend to smile more after a drink, and as a direct result, my level of wit and intrigue increases. The subtle craftsmanship of spirits, the descriptors, textures, and aromas. The hunt for the perfect cocktail. I don't discriminate. I'll talk politics over the nicest bourbon you can find then wander into a dive bar and throw back a Pabst Blue Ribbon and a shot of Jameson. The sauce, my friend, is how you make connections.

Think about how many fewer people you'd know if you didn't drink. How many fewer stories you'd have. Don't believe me? Take a night off, walk into any neighborhood bar by yourself and just sit down and have a few drinks. People will just approach you to chat, to hear your story. It might start with the bartender, but then you'll drag in the person next to you, and then a few more. The next night, go to a library. It just doesn't work. Some of the coolest, most fascinating people I've ever met have been randomly sitting next to me at a bar. Quite simply, society favors drink.

Now I'm not advocating blacking out seven nights a week, and I don't suggest getting drunk all the time. But there is something deeply satisfying and refreshing about having a drink or two.

So what's this going to be like? I predict my creativity will be deeply affected. I'm basing this solely on how successful other highly intoxicated people have been. Like Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edgar Allen Poe, Kingsley Amis, or Werner von Braun. I'm not going to go to sleep any earlier, though I'll probably eat a lot better. I don't know why.

Obviously the one area that my imposed sobriety won't affect is work. Because that's boring and neither of us care, let's move on.

So, Day One: I went to work two hours late. It was scheduled and awesome. Downside: Financial Times was long gone. There has been a lot of Arcade Fire going on in my head today.

Tomorrow I'm going to come up with a machine that can do my job. I don't think it should be that difficult. I imagine it's going to be a mix between a gigantic Scantron machine and one of those punch-card computers from the 60's. Actually it's going to look like this:

Except that instead of the person, it would just be another (admittedly retro looking) computer. Or maybe a paperwork receiving area.

But at the end of the day, there's something to be said about getting off work, downing several shots, a few beers, half a bottle of wine, and then going to dinner. More tomorrow.