Vajolet Towers vs. Closing Time

Vajolet Towers

Mountains never close.

Mountains trump everything. A few years ago, stricken with a bout of status anxiety and trying to rid myself of residual bad feelings about some terrible dude, I took a train across Canada and hung out in the Rocky Mountains for awhile. Staring up at mountains is a great way to realize your own insignificance, which may sound depressing, but it’s not: it’s liberating. It totally takes the pressure off. The mountains don’t give a shit if you’re famous or successful or important. Because one day you will be gone. And the mountains will still be there. So don’t worry so much.

I’ve never been to the Dolomites, to see the Vajolet Towers (that trio of peaks above) but I imagine the experience would be similar (I mean, look).

I realize Justin has a lot of strong arguments to make – he’s playing songs from the Tom Waits album right now, and yes, it’s beautiful. The song Martha is so good that it inspires the same sort of spiritual reaction that I get from staring up at mountains. But the thing about mountains is that they make you realize that everything man-made is ephemeral and tiny compared to this massive hunk of immovable rock. You can’t fight a mountain. And isn’t “Closing Time” just one letter away from “Losing Time”?


Closing Time

Closing time, helping prevent us from making even more of a disgrace of ourselves than we already have.

Feeling the effects of a rather decadent Tuesday night, it’s appropriate that I got closing time. As much as it might hurt to have to stop when you’ve got your drink on, you know the morning after would hurt so much more if there wasn’t a time limit at the bar for last call.

Let’s be fair, closing time is pretty generous as it is. In Toronto, we’ve got till 2 a.m. to order and about 2:45 a.m. to drink up. In Montreal, add an extra hour to that. And in England, well, they’ve got till 11 p.m. so they just get started earlier. I think they’ve even allowed for extended alcohol licensing hours there but people don’t necessarily want it. They like the fact that leaving by 11 p.m. gives them a slim chance of not feeling like absolute garbage the next day. So thank you, closing time. Had you not existed, I may’ve only gotten home just now, completely broke and totally shitfaced. Instead, I’m still able to write a post.

Also, we have Tom Waits’ excellent Closing Time album to help nurse the hangover should it be there. (Not to mention reducing you to nostalgic tears. That song Martha slays me every time.) Leonard Cohen’s Closing Time ain’t bad either. And even Hole’s stab at it sounds decent (I think this was during the Live Through This era, really not a bad album at all). And if that doesn’t satiate the mucus on your brain, you can zone out and watch Beavis and Butt-Head. Yes, thank you closing time. … I think I could go for a drink right now.

Published in: on March 10, 2010 at 10:38 am  Leave a Comment  

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