One of the great things about sobriety for me is the ability to read with clarity and interest and the ability to remember what I read. I never stopped reading (well, except for two years after graduate school because, man, I was burned out) during my drinking, but I wouldn’t say I was fully on-board with the text. I remembered general plot-lines, but lines didn’t strike me; the words didn’t inspire and inform my own writing, as is happening now. It’s such a good feeling to get in bed at night and read for a bit, feeling calm, immersing myself in the world of the book, and knowing I won’t wake up feeling like this:
The other night, I was reading Paul Theroux’s The Last Train to Zona Verde: My Ultimate African Safari, when I came across the word “crapulous.” I raised my brows. Crapulous? Sounds like a word I would use daily if it meant what I thought it did (mistakenly, as it turns out). Here’s the definition:
Crapulous – marked by intemperance especially in eating or drinking; sick from excessive indulgence in liquor.
Ah, crapulous, how I’ve been guilty of thee. I leaned over in bed and showed the word to my wife, who’d never seen it before, either. We shared a laugh, only because I’m on the good side of crapulous. My, what a bizarre sentence.
Anyhow, I thought I’d share the word with everyone and sincerely wish none of you a crapulous day.