I like nice things. I like good food, I like well-made clothing, I enjoy tasty coffee, I like staying at fancy places, traveling to exotic locations, cars sometimes. I'm a man of the world.
But even If I had the money to sustain all these extravagant luxuries, I wouldn't. Now, I realize this sounds like a cop-out from someone talking himself out of the jet-setter, highfalutin lifestyle because deep down, he simply can't afford it, yet doesn't want anyone to know this truth. In my case, incorrect. Here's my reasoning: If I adhered to the "life's too short for shitty (insert: wine, whisky, food, coffee, clothing, vacations, etc)" I would become burnt out rather quickly, not to mention, be in terrible debt. I would become used to eating (at first) delicious meals three times a day, and then they would become mundane. If I drank uber high-end coffee every morning, my taste buds would become spoiled and not appreciate the nicer things touching them anymore. There's no reason for me to drive an Audi R8 supercar or wear a gold chain or Rolex wrist watch, because then, when I would ride with you in your Q7 while you wore your Citizen, I would scoff. This kind of reasoning with one's self requires balance. There's that pesky word again. It's everywhere with this guy (even tattooed on his dang arm). Balance is everywhere, just like the spirit of Elvis. In the case of minimalist basics vs. fancy shit, I prefer to have the teeter-totter perfectly horizontal. It has to do with satisfaction. Here's a neat example: I feel satisfied as I awake from my 0 degree, mummy-style sleeping bag atop a bluff, overlooking a valley. No tent, no camper, just me sleeping on the goddamn ground. Satisfaction continues as I slip on my worn-out down jacket and make a morning fire. As my coffee becomes steamy and perfect for sipping, the satisfaction increases. I'm happy with the minimalist morning I've had. With spirited initiative and resourcefulness, I've created a long-lasting memory with nothing more than a handful of life-giving necessities, a few miles on my feet, and some woods. Other side of the coin: I feel satisfied when I awake from the king bed with sheets made in Italy and a mattress made from Tempur-pedic wizardry. My skin is smooth from complementary body lotion I applied after a soak in the 425-jet Jacuzzi tub the night before. Enjoyment escalated last night as I indulged with a bottle of red wine from a foreign country, a petite fillet cut with a hand-forged steel steak knife, and two fingers of the Balvenie for dessert. My morning of satisfaction peaks as I draw the shades, pour a cup of coffee from Costa Rica or someshit, and sit on my personal balcony soaking up the scenes of oceans, rivers, mountains, or some other view that's worth the money. I've saved for this experience, this memory. I'm proud of it and I understand that it is an every-now-and-then type of indulgence. Even if I were very wealthy, like Toby Keith, I would not want this lifestyle to become routine, as it would likely change who I am as a Joe who appreciates all ends of the spectrum. Living modestly, or at least within your means, is a grown-up thing to do. If I sprung it rich, I'm not sure I would change a whole lot. I'd probably upgrade from used to new in a couple materialistic categories. Buy a few toys like a Trans Am, maybe a Hulk #1 or a new smoker with a built-in canopy. But I'd still buy my Wranglers at Walmart. And I'd try hard to keep perspective. I wouldn't indulge every day. No need. "Every day" being key, there. I'd still have fun, because money can't buy you happiness, but It can buy you a yacht big enough to pull up right alongside it...on occasion. But don't forget, sleeping on the beach while the yachts roll by is equally as satisfying. At the end of the day, I like a heavily peppered, seared Wagyu ribeye cooked rare, with garlic gorgonzola butter drizzled over the top, served with roasted fingerling potatoes, and a glass of Scotch whisky from an $80 bottle. I also like a bag of White Castles, Always Save potato chips served with Hiland French Onion Dip, and a can of Busch Bavarian fresh from downtown St. Louis. Like I told you, friends, I'm a man of the world.
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AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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