Dan Beeston is

Brushing Off Invisible Spiders

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    I drank a couple of glasses of red wine last night. This is a rare occurrence these days though it used to be a nightly one. I don't have a headache today. I'm not nauseous. But I do have this terrible melancholy. Drinking wine is like drinking synthetic happiness. It sours overnight and pools in the body as despondency. My world view is pessimistic. I don't think anything is good. I suppose that's why they call it whine.