“About this business of being a gentleman: I paid so heavily for the fourteen years of my gentleman’s education that I feel entitled, now and then, to get some sort of return.”
I don’t remember when I stopped caring, but I remember exactly where I was when I started to rationalize it. It was October of my senior year of college- I was walking to work and realized I had posts due. One of them was here, one was on my new website, Nobly Rotten, and suddenly I realized that not only did I have a great deal of writing to do, I had to drink a bottle of wine. My relationship with drinking has always been a kind one– wine knowledge started early and became something I could share with my father, gin was always convivial and kept me bright and the rest, fine to keep around for company. So drinking to write and writing to drink felt natural, and I started the website. It was a process- a difficult client relationship with a web developer, starting SEO from scratch, and accessing an entirely new client base that I so badly wanted to enmesh myself with. I don’t know if I wanted another blog so much as that I wanted friends.In reality, the world was different. I had wonderful experiences for a long time– plenty of wine tasting, great restaurants, a feigned attempt to meet other men in their mid-40’s, seemingly my chief companions during this journey. Moving to France yielded a similar, but fading love- I drank when I felt like it. Anything else felt obligatory and took away from the sensation I was trying so hard to find. Riesling was far and few between, and my world was upended. The website had been put on the back burner before I had even begun to cook.I hadn’t been drinking much after my return. I wasn’t seeing my father and I wasn’t drinking entire bottles of wine. I think the last time I unceremoniously did so was over the summer in Vegas, a bottle of sweet nothings at Robuchon. Last night Bluehost told me the website was expired. I tried. I couldn’t find my way past the password screen, emotionally, I couldn’t dredge the energy to pick up my wallet. My tabs, as you can see, are no longer crammed full of new contacts so much as they are lawyer-poking for people who have held similar jobs to my summer acquisition (!), poetry writing, though stodgy, and a schedule. I have bills to pay, a life to keep up with and I realized that the website wasn’t as much fun without people to drink with. It’s the same lonely sensation I get when I unsubscribe from an email list I once needed but no longer care about, or the receipt of an update from a restaurant I once went to during different times. It takes me back to a version of myself that doesn’t really exist in this place any more. I can deal with the change, but addressing it is key. A poignant article on the internet revealed how quickly things disappear- things that we say will go on forever, unless by our hand, unless by the world’s.Foodette will live on, because I’m curious to see where it goes, if nothing else than to keep an archive of a life hurtling from high school to the end of academia, through consumption. Happy sixth birthday, Foodette. And the website I run with the Bedfellow, Notched + Tied, is reigning strong and gaining speed over time, deliberation, and partnership.
However, Nobly Rotten must, as many do over time, fade into the binary ether, wherever it is blogs go once they cease their usefulness or lacking hubris, sheer entertainment, and I wish its numbers well. So long, old friend. I liked you.