Some men leer at you like consumptive wretches in Dostoevsky novels. Good men, even.At work with James of the Beam clan. Four employees - all men - sit side by side. I'm thinking about the pleasure of large amounts of money in my pocket. A friend buys me a drink. The pleasure intensifies: more drink and no less money. Mammon is the first god a person believes in. His benefits are so exquisitely tangible.
I feel the frowning of a myriad of desert monks somewhere in my conscience. Treasure in heaven, yes, but heaven feels so many thousands of miles away. We men of earth need money and drink and crude conversation on bar stools.
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