Friday, September 28, 2018
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
"Grey and obscure on the horizon rose a low island."
By an odd sequence of events today I was reminded of my acquaintance with several people more than forty years ago. We were at that time mostly young people not long out of graduate school. But three of our number were what was then considered "old" - anywhere from 55 - 65 years of age. They were either currently or recently retired from professional avocations as well. To be truthful however what aligned us was an animated social life - and perhaps more than a passing interest in distilled liquor and fortified wines. There was admittedly an element of lasciviousness which embroidered the congregation but it was generally considered sous entendu.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Thursday, September 20, 2018
"Iconoclasm is the social belief in the importance of the destruction of icons and other images or monuments, most frequently for religious or political reasons. People who engage in or support iconoclasm are called iconoclasts, a term that has come to be applied figuratively to any individual who challenges cherished beliefs or venerated institutions on the grounds that they are erroneous or pernicious."
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Henry Higgins: Look at her, a prisoner of the gutter,
Condemned by every syllable she utters.
By right she should be taken out and hung,
For the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue.
My Fair Lady - Why Can't The English?
Monday, September 17, 2018
Twenty-four hours earlier we judiciously resolved to leave the apartment by no later than 3:00 pm. That would give us enough time to have the car washed then arrive at our destination by 4:30 pm when we had been invited for a late afternoon Sunday dinner. We poozled the liquor cabinet for two bottles of wine - both upmarket naturally - one white for him who drank nothing but; one red for posterity. Dessert however was our instructed subscription. The wine was a calculated concession. It was no secret our hosts had long ago abandoned teetotaling. As for dessert we deliberated various models - starting ambitiously with fresh fruit then nippily corrupting to Nanaimo bars, maple butter tarts or ice cream. In the end we settled upon donuts - the reputedly "healthy" rendition from a local merchant. The wine would be the coup - though in my opinion arriving with a brown paper bag is a modern absurdity of social beneficence. One might as well proclaim insufficiency of the host's cellarette!
Saturday, September 15, 2018
At one o'clock this morning the grandfather clock clanged its St. Michael chimes. I lay awake for the next hour, swimming in the horrible details of whale harpooning and slaughter houses. Not an inspiring reflection, one which regrettably translated into other hostile reminders such as memento mori and the steady evaporation of youth. Perhaps the most poisonous admission was that an disagreeable result awaits us all. It matters not whether your casket is gilded or covered in gray cloth.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Saturday, September 8, 2018
"Alas the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."
The Tempest, Act 2 Scene 2, William Shakespeare (1610)
Friday, September 7, 2018
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Wednesday, September 5, 2018
Probably it has forever been so - best to keep it simple. If nothing else it avoids the evaporation of one's audience. Today's little adventure was for my personal benefit. I was the audience. And what I kept simple was the focus of my outing. There is the perpetual temptation to complicate things, to change or renew whatever has been done before, as though it were the way to some relieving novelty. Certainly pioneering is important. But at a some point in one's life (or perhaps just at a point in one's day) all we require is a simple pleasure without elaboration or singularity. This objective I happily achieved by driving along Highway #416 from Ottawa to Spencerville, a hamlet about 25 kms north of the St. Lawrence River. It isn't as though I have never been there before. But it is only recently that I have enlarged my perception of the small town. And today I landed upon something entirely unanticipated - a furniture store.