Sober City Redux: Epilogue




During my recent (and way-too-short) visit down south, I started writing a new blog post in-between taking countless pictures of the beautifully gothic Louisiana oak trees, and enjoying countless world class musicians and Bourbon Street Bloody Marys. The post was about being yourself and me being Canadian and trying to be American or something like that like, but I decided to shelf that one for now and do a little epilogue to Sober City Redux instead. As I announced in my last post, Sober City is in the process of becoming Dazy Mojo and switching from a blog about me not drinking to a blog about whatever the hell I feel like blogging about. In light of that upcoming (albeit somewhat slight) shift, I feel like a quick recap of my post sobriety-breaking adventure in The Big Easy is in order. Spoiler alert: It was awesome. 

First off, I kept true to my word and held off imbibing until April 1st, which provided me with two full days of vacation sobriety. Vacation Sobriety, as we all know, is the Jar Jar Binks of sobrieties. It’s primarily enjoyed only by children and most people over 20 do everything in their power to forget it even exists. Regardless of this, holding off on the booze for a couple days was easier than I expected. Turns out crawfish boils are just as delicious as I remember even without the frosty Abita Amber cooling the heat. This didn’t really surprise me so much as provide me with a good reminder that booze can be good but it’s not the thing that makes the good. That last sentence was brought to you by Third Graders. Third Graders: “Making write good. Good writing make good.” 
Secondly, once I did have that first drink again after three months, it was no big deal at all. The skies never filled with rain clouds of whiskey, the sea level never rose to Captain Morgan proportions, and I wasn’t visited by the ghost of John Belushi with a never ending bottle of Jack Daniels cascading down his “College” sweatshirt. I had a glass of red wine while reading Tom Robbins in the Louisiana sun, and it was perfectly perfect. That’s it, that’s all.
Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just have one glass of wine on April 1st, tip my hat to Emily Post and retire to my drawing room in quiet reflection for the evening, but I also didn’t dive face first into Bourbon Street for Hurricanes and Hand Grenades either. Truth be told, I definitely drank more over the course of the trip than I would have had I not been in the greatest city on the planet for live music and world class cuisine, but I definitely didn’t overdo it and I have zero hangovers to prove it. That’s the whole point of it all really. “Have fun. Enjoy life. Don’t get hangovers.” I’m pretty sure Gandhi said that or something. 
Anyways, all is good in the Joe camp and more goodness is coming your way soon if you so choose to keep following along after Sober City is but a speck of dust in the rear view mirror of the Internet. I’m getting pretty excited about and I hope it actually materializes into something fun and consistent. I’ll be posting various new songs as Dazy Mojo very soon as well, so get ready to be bombarded with some smooth polka-jazz infusion sprinkled with a hint of death metal. Am I joking? Am I serious? You’ll just have to wait to find out. Until then, I’m joking. They’re just regular old Joe MacLeod songs written in German and sung in Inuit throat singing as always. Top 4040 here I come!

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