Karl Klockars

Since a great deal of us are probably all still in a state of recovery, myself included, I thought it would be nice to discuss all the great things that hangovers can produce.  For example, how many advances in greasy food have been necessitated by hangovers?  How many new appreciations for tomato juice and Gatorade and Pedialyte and sausage gravy have been born through hangovers?  How many people have quit smoking due to the intake of 30 cigarettes the night before?  The possibilities for appreciation for Hangover are endless.

The nice thing about hangovers is that they can produce such great art.  If all true artistry is born in a place of pain, and all great writers are such prodigious drunks, it stands to reason that some great works of literature (and probably art, dance, music and so on) were created in the depths of a seriously awesome hangover.  If you can find some sort of Venn Diagram or “If A=B and B=C” equation proving this somewhere in the ether of the internet, please let me know.

Back when I really used to tie it on (sometimes twice a day if I was lucky) I used to tell myself that I enjoyed the hangover as much as I enjoyed the preceding debauchery.  When I arose with my head a-throbbin’, thoroughly raging at a world that would permit this kind of suffering to persist, I discovered that those around me found me witty, clever, wry and bitterly entertaining. I even kinda liked being curmudgeonly if it got a laugh, in spite of the pain.

For some reason, when you GIS "hangover" you get cartoons.

And why?  It was because the hangover temporarily removed any sense of care or consideration for a great many things.  Why should I concern myself with the joy and wonder in the world when my body is in such violent revolt?  I was free to think many great and glorious things with the filter of general empathy removed.

From there, a number of interesting and insightful conversations and monologues sprung forth, like a vomiting and cussing Zeus springing forth from the head of Athena.  She was an Athena that looked surprisingly similar to a bottle of Old Grandad and a dozen High Lifes.  Unfortunately, none of those things were written down or recorded for the ages.  Mmmmm.  Tastes of embarassment and failure to document.

It’s almost like a fair trade.  The night before, the tongue is dulled with a thick paste of booze and a general incoherence of thought.  It returns with a vengeance the day afterwards, as well as the dry hack of a chest that smoked way too many cigarettes during that period of time where one thinks, “Chain smoking is an excellent decision and not one that I will regret later.  Now, let’s light up another Marlboro Medium and be merry, for tomorrow we die, or something like that.”

See? More cartoons.

I’d love a survey of people who are a creative sort, just to see if this is a widespread phenomenon, or just one localized to me.  (IE:  Am I the only dreaded jerk who is not only insufferably vile after a night of intoxication, but one who also thinks he’s being clever?)  Could it be that the myth of drug abuse for creative purposes is almost plausible – except you need to wait for the toxins to really attack the body to get that creative burst that you want?

The science would be fascinating.  Paint a picture while you’re deep into two bottles of port, Little Miss Art Student – and then paint one about 8 hours after you stop drinking and someone shoves you out of bed.  Would either of them be worth gazing on?  Or would the worth only be to the artist?  Or a mix?  Or neither?  Would they both be crap?

As one ages, perhaps the increased need for recovery time carries the artist a little longer through that window of creativity that seems to burn brightest in the mid- to early-twenties.  Who knows how many careers have been extended by continuing that night out just a little bit longer?  How many books or pieces of music were finished because of that extra glass of wine when any other more professional person would have resisted because they don’t want to be worthless in the morning?  One person’s “worthless” is another person’s “burst of creativity.”

If nothing else, this theory could serve to explain why so many great artists grow up and suck horribly after rehab.  It’s not the free-wheeling chaos of inebriation that keeps artists so vital and creative.  It’s the ensuing crushing pain in their mind that they need to exude somehow, be it on the page or through a paintbrush or through a guitar.  When someone wakes up feeling refreshed, enjoys a nice sensible breakfast and then goes jogging for a few miles, truly great rock and roll is not produced.

I don't think the theory explains Metallica's "ReLoad" because I'm pretty sure they were all still drinking then.

This theory does not explains the recurrence of Aerosmith in the 80s.   That could very well be the exception that proves the rule.  Also, this hunk of copy would be way more interesting if I were as hungover as I was yesterday.  I don’t know how a few High Lifes, a couple steins of German beer, one-half a shot of fig-flavored vodka and a couple glasses of almond-flavored champagne could produce such a prodigious headache and general body lethargy, but it did.  I ain’t got the snap-back quality I did when I was 17, I suppose.   There’s another benefit of the hangover right there – perspective.