Literated and Obliterated #1: The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot.

Written in 1922, this wild piece of poetry is not to be undertaken lightly. Don't let that discourage you, it is well worth the effort, but you might want to read it sitting down. The work is conveniently broken up into five parts, so that you can get up periodically to refresh your beverage and scream into a pillow, or at the very least flip your record to side B. Speaking of music, I recommend metal. Nothing fast or grindy, but something heavy, ponderous and a little spacey. With titles like "The Burial of the Dead,""A Game of Chess,""The Fire Sermon,""Death by Water," and "What the Thunder Said" its easy to see how each part of this opus could be and has been inspiration to throngs of over-read under-socialized hessian youth.

For fear of boring you any more than I already have, I will leave all of the lit crit to many under-employed English majors in the world, and stick to my strong suit: booze. Without giving away too many juicy bits of the poem, I can say that its a bit on the dark side, and, coupled with an appropriate soundtrack, will require some careful planning on the liquor front. I recommend a five tiered approach, one per part.

To begin, you'll want something strong and stable to sip on as you settle in and get used to the meter. Something tasty but not distracting, allowing you to focus on the reading while you can still focus at all. Beer. I suggest Hopworks Rise Up Red, from Portland. If that's not around any high gravity craft brew should do just fine. Enjoy your beer, get into the poem and by the end of "The Burial of the Dead" you'll be ready for something a little stronger.

Part two, "A Game of Chess" is a good time to savor that whiskey you've been saving for a special occasion. For me its Stranahans Snowflake Colorado whiskey, but to each their own. Try two fingers on ice. Let it sit and mellow on the rocks while you flip the record and then settle back in. You should be feeling melodramatic and a little fuzzy by the end of this section. Remember, this early 20th century poetry. Everything sucked back then, seriously. No twitter, very few cars with A/C, half of the western European male population offed each other in the Great War, civil rights were unheard of, and then this Eliot asshole goes and subjects you to this morose onslaught. Heavy stuff no? Yeah, its ok to top off the whiskey...

Part the third, "The Fire Sermon," is time to really get down in the shit. By now you are drunk, a little confused and trying justify your growing interest in whatever the hell it was that Mr. Eliot was drinking or smoking in 1922. Its time to start checking out, so you can wind down by the end of the poem. Good smoky mezcal, as much of it as you can stomach during part three.

"Death By Water" is only ten lines long, so just have one more tug on the mezcal, and then for the love of christ put that shit away before its too late. No seriously, I mean put it away, somewhere that the sober version of you would never look for it.

Aside from being the most epically titled passage ever, "What The Thunder Said" is your last taste of Eliot's genius for today, so savor it. And savor it the way they did back then, with some absinthe. Didn't see that coming did you? By the time you get to the last line of the poem the Hindi should look like English and vice versa. Take a moment to reflect on the whole experience, finish your absinthe, turn off the record player and check your watch. Oooh, look, not as late as you thought. Your mind might be on another planet, but you haven't missed Glee yet. Head for the boob tube and forget the whole ordeal...
-OSB