The Latest Addiction to Bite the Dust.

Tonight I was torn between making a post entitled The Wrong Reasons to Get Married or one called The Latest Addiction to Bite the Dust. I decided on the latter, so here it is.

I've had several addictions during the course of my life -- assuming addiction may may be taken as synonymous with monomania, which, for the sake of simplicity, I think it may -- and most of them have gone the way of the Dodo for one reason or another.

My first major addiction was to fishing, but I gave that one up for ethical reasons. I was also addicted for much of my life to meat dishes in all their delectable forms -- especially roast turkey drumsticks at Christmas -- but I gave that one up also for ethical reasons. And then there was my addiction to romantic assignations. That one had to go because my parameters were narrow and inviolate, and various factors -- too numerous and personal to relate here -- forced me to the view that it was no longer allowable. The addiction to photography was one of the strongest of all, but economic factors beyond my control poured too much water on it and the fire was inevitably extinguished. The writing of fiction took possession of my heart, mind, and time for about ten years, but at last I ran out of stories to create. (The act of writing itself, however, still seems to be holding station, as evidenced by this little blog of mine.)

And now for the sad confession: I seem to have become addicted to YouTube, especially at night, and I think it will have to go. Part of the reason is that too little of it captures my interest these days. Too much  is either trivial, fake, or comprises the ludicrous excesses of far out, new age speculation presented as fact. But the other factor involved is that my ageing computer doesn't like it, and is wont to throw serious tantrums if I expose him to more than he can tolerate -- which isn't very much. You might ask why I don't just get a new computer. The answer to that is surprisingly long and involved, but includes the fact that my old computer is my best friend. I talk to him,  you know, and he's remarkably adroit at behaving sympathetically to my mood. And so I might ask: 'When Beethoven was becoming deaf and forgetful, did he blame his piano and throw it out?' You may decide whether or not to consider that proposition rational.

You might have noticed that I've made no mention of my addiction to smoking. That was intentional because smoking is, to me, far more than the simple addiction to nicotine. It warrants a post all to itself, and maybe I'll write it one day. Or maybe I won't.