One for the Road

I'm not positive who coined the phrase, though I know (through various texts) that Hemingway would say "trago del camino" when he would drink and fish in Cuba, which literally meant "one for the road". But what does this really mean? Surely not just one would satisfy the great Papa Hemingway; hell, he was known to carry at least a quart of whiskey with him at all times. This, to some, seems like a godsend, that someone as successful and intelligent as Hemingway would drink on a daily basis (a light of hope in a hazy, deep, deep ocean). But, what some don't realize, is that he took his own life when he was fairly young, around 60 years old. Even the Greatest of the Greats must suffer in some aspect, for an author, what thing is better then one of the most painful emotions one can endure, to spur on a story among stories, a fable among poems, a sentence among words. Some people just never stop searching, and that just might be the key to happiness.

What's the deal with all this vomit?

It's 3:35a.m. on a Tuesday night and I'm awoken by an intrinsic urge for porcelain. As I approach the bowl of bowls, I notice a curious residue seeping down the seat, and a little on the wall, which abruptly (but temporarily) makes me lose my digestive appetite. As I regained sanity in the midst of this developing-slime, I wondered to myself: who's the wise guy getting hammered on a Tuesday night? I regained consciousness among my lingering sanity to the obvious: my roommate (or one of them therein). But how? Among further investigation (going to his room) I could see a television left on, a bowl of cereal half-eaten, and my roommate right there in the middle. Which left me to wonder further, on a more existential level: does the drunk determine the man? Or the man determine the type of drunk they become? So deep... a query on this later.