Ten years ago, what I would have given to speak the line, "How, unless you drink as I do, can you hope to understand the beauty of an old Indian woman playing dominoes with a chicken?" Well, time may have made me a more sober man, but I still know what drunken blathering can teach us. As I myself noted in a prior incarnation of decadence, "disorientation is genius." That revelation came at too great a cost, but I do appreciate the fake Rimbaudery of its sentiment. And while I may envy the alcoholic ex-ambassador his dissipative splendor, none of the consolations of wastefulness can rival the satisfaction I find in chasing my big brown rabbit around the coffee table in my living room. Certainly, growing up does make us less interesting people, but equally it brings to the miniature world an unexpected grandeur: "Cockroach, cockroach on the wall, ain't you got no one at all?"And as for Albert Finney? Well, he spoke the line, didn't he?
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