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What's your favorite drink of choice?


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Hi all,

I don't know about you, but combined with some really horrible family and personal circumstances involving a family death and ankle surgery after a moose-fleeing incident (I am from Montana. . .) and a pretty dismal academic season, I find myself displaying some potentially alcoholic tendencies. Just like in Organic Chemistry when I wrote sonnets to benzaldhyde (smells like almonds), I decided to turn my hand to a sonnet expressing my current lamentation. Of course, I prefer to study sonnets rather than write them, but in the absence of that opportunity, I figure that we can all take the genre we love the most and find some creative outlets combining it with our favorite drink! (Note: I never claimed to be GOOD at sonnet writing ;)

Here's my attempt:

When I find myself all alone and sad

I turn to what I know and find helpful

Even though all I love say it might be bad

Bah! I scoff, they are all damn full of bull.

In these desp

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As a fellow researcher of the Renaissance, I'll follow your lead, noting that this process led to the first time I have ever chosen to drink alone. My condolences on all your other circumstances; it sounds like this has been a terrible year for you in non-academic ways :(. Best of luck with the rest of application season.

It really seems to get to me, this wait,

To nestle in my cracking self-esteem

And, being in, to further split my seam

And tear me open like a packing crate.

It's far too easy, waiting, to create

Fantastic visions in a waking dream

To fright yourself. Then, turning to Jim Beam

Or Johnny Walker, or my jolly mate

The flat-tailed beaver on my cider can,

I drown these worries. What if I should fail?

Thus cider-fueled I'll make a better plan.

O lovely drink beside which others pale,

The incubator and the cure of pain,

Another toast! For I must calm my brain.

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QUESTION (after Swenson http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16366)

SUNY my best

my next my longest

what will I drink

when you reject me

Where will I read

How will I teach

What will I write

Where can I go

without Lincoln

all funded and cold

How will I know

in Arizona

is hope or tequila

when Carnegie my good

bright dream is dead

How will it be

to lie in the sky

without WUSTL and Chicago

wait lists to eye

With school for shift

how will I hide?

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When I have fears that all my hopes will sink,

Ere half my days, in this proud world and dull,

I sigh, and cast aside my pen, and mull

About my odds, and turn at last to drink;

Then, flushed with Maker's, I sit ill at ease,

And, half-accustomed to my weary fate,

I watch the night wax lonely, black, and late,

And half-rehearse again my silent pleas

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