Repentance, Heisenberg and Oban

Here we go again; back to Heisenberg. In an early posting, we talked about the mutability of Montaigne. Not only how Montaigne continually revises his own thinking, but also how he seems to change with each reading. In On Repentance the master acknowledges this very difficulty: “Constancy itself is nothing but a more languid motion. I cannot fix my object; it goes muddled and reeling by a natural drunkenness. I take it just as it is at the instant I consider it.” Repentance is so full of ideas that its impossible to post once on the essay. Vice and virtue; our public lives in contrast to private life. I will need to revisit this brief essay several times. And just as Montaigne describes his difficulty with discussing an idea that seems to change each time he perceives it, as Heisenberg theorized five hundred years later, we have the very same difficulty reading this essay. Each reading, in fact each rereading of any given page, seems to reveal new layers of complexity.

And as long as we’re on the topic of drunkenness, last night we were at a Bat Mitzvah, and they had Oban on the bar. Pretty good bar, I’d say. As I was waiting to ask for a glass, I noticed that the bartenders, who apparently didn’t have a clue, were pouring it over ice whenever anyone asked for scotch. For all I know, they were pouring ginger ale on top. I tried to tell them, you don’t want to pour that over ice, give them the Chivas. As I said, they had no clue, but perhaps trying to compensate, they poured me about five ounces, neat. It lasted most of the night. I’m not a great fan of Oban; it’s smooth, but seems to lack character. However, I’ll say this for it. The deeper I went into that glass, the better it tasted. It’s always a good sign when the drink doesn’t get tired, when the bottom of the glass tastes better than the first sip.