I posted on Facebook a picture of me drinking a glass of beer. A Facebook friend (yes, you mi querido) asked why I was drunk. The answer is obvious, no? Because either I am trying to forget about something sad, or trying to enjoy something happy. What an oxymoron!
I don’t know. We humans need a drug to alter our state of mind so as to avoid reality or enhance fantasy. I bet all societies have a legal drug so that its members don’t get rebellious. We have alcohol, some Muslim countries have hashish. Never tried hashish, so I don’t know how it may affect my mental state. As for alcohol, well, I am happy to say that it makes me a happy, frisky drunk (Y mi querido, saves como se dice “frisky” en Espanol? Pienso que para tus paisanos son todas las palabras tras “pinche”)
My memory of drunks harks back to my childhood years in an Andean country. Los campesinos were born into a harsh life, with nary a peso (or sol or escudo) of inheritance. Whatever tierra they possessed was long stolen by the conquistadores from the madre patria. What remained was work in the haciendas for the descendants. While everyone claimed to be mestizo, in reality some mestizos were more equal than others.
So, what does a hard-working, money-less campesino do? Besides the numbness of chewing coca leaves, there was the harsh clear liquid fermented from sugar cane. That drink produced the typical borracho who was angry but so drunk that he was mostly harmless. Any fiesta celebrating the endless parades of saints brought the excuse for drinking and drinking and drinking. Just to forget the harsh existence of everyday survival in a land close to heaven.
Y para mi querido, algo para que te emborraches: