there is something to be said for respite...
there is a drunkeness to it all its own. to lose yourself in the soft boundaries of wondering thought. to find excess and excitement in the calm of an empty field, out beyond the drunken haze, this is where a more pure ecstasy might be found. when asleep under the stars, out in the desert, the silence is so profound that it's deafeningly loud. the same subtlety of proper drunkeness feeds the art of respite, to draw from all corners a peace and rejuvenation that is as intense as activity it sustains. soak up sunlight or heavy rain to intoxication.
and what is an existance of drunkeness without the sober world for comparison? it is not so much that we must be able to say, "take me far away from this mundanity!" but more to serve as another place, to keep our pleasure in perspective, for to be drunk at all times leaves no appretiation for the state. to be self-aware is to be full, and to be full is like floating in a warm pool at night, saturated and weightless.