Forgive yesterday's drama. My pen tends towards dramatics.
No bourbon today. I look at the calendar (sacred guide of life) and see that tomorrow we celebrate the forty who witnessed at Sebaste.
The pour of bourbon at the end of a day has the blessed affect of making one's belligerently chaotic life seem slower, at least for an hour or two. The nights of work, the perpetually-shrieking baby, the papers and midterms which stick in the back of the mind like guilt- all of these are not so much suspended as they are distanced. From the comfort of chair and glass they no longer seem invincible, no longer insurmountable. Perhaps what I am trying to describe here is perspective. How did men see anything rightly before Kentucky was a place on earth?
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