On the Water Front

When it comes to hydration there are two schools of thought.  I have spoken with medical doctors who claim that it suffices to drink when one is thirsty.  The massage therapists, on the other hand, to a woman recommend the drinking of prodigious quantities of water.

Now water is the philosopher's drink (Henry David Thoreau) and the via media is his path. So I tread the middle path between the sawbones and the back rubbers. First thing upon arisal is the downing of two 12-ounce glasses of purified water.  That is against my druthers, a half a cup (4 oz) being all I desire at that time of the morning. But I pound 'em down. That is followed by two cups of strong java. A most excellent diuretic! Then a third glass topped with some orange juice -- an 80-20 mix -- before I leave the house for the morning constitutional which features three episodes of clear micturition, two in the wild, leaning upon my staff, gazing into the Apeiron, the third back at the shack.   And then I maintain the inflow for the rest of the day sipping Perrier and San Pellegrino and the effluent of my reverse osmosis tap. Two more cups of coffee for a total of four for the day. No sugary drinks. And no booze until the weekend. And a moderate quantity of that.

Your body is a temple, not an amusement park, pace Anthony Bourdain, who brought his nihilist life to a fitting conclusion by hanging himself.

And if it is a temple, you might want to think twice about defacing it with tattoos, the graffiti of the human body.  Leave the tats to the drunken sailors and rough trade that one might find on the waterfront.