I know how it happens now. After a week of drinking and lethargy one finds that they have accomplished very little besides smoking cigarettes and feeling poorly. Resolute, that same individual vows to be healthy and make better decisions… and he does, and feels better and is incredibly productive. And when he is grinding out sets of shoulder shrugs or running his customary three miles, he feels unstoppable: An individual who creates the circumstances he wishes to be surrounded by

But then, while standing atop the summit of invisibility, a small worry metastasizes, loneliness creeps in, or a cousin in California hits a tree and perishes. Then the small concessions are made again; I will only drink four beers, I will skip the gym today and workout harder tomorrow. One seeks distraction, the four hour feel good regains its allure, and the circle game continues.

Until one day, having become well-versed in the rise and fall, our subject seizes on the beauty of purpose, spending his days trying to enshroud the world in fog. All while drinking a quart of Sierra Nevada.

32 ounces is less than 4 beers right?