October 8th, 2017

jiip sad

(no subject)

On a sunny blue and white autumn afternoon I rode over to Yonge St to buy a tablet. Which I did, but technology never excites me. More to the point, I rode along the Famous Helen's old street with its jewel houses under yellow leaves, like some image of happiness. And I have been weepy and woeful ever since, which I put down to Rat fallout, not anything metaphysical or 'To think that two and two make four/ And neither five nor three/ The heart of man has long been sore/ And long is like to be.' (Housman is a medicine for melancholy: homeopathic, but effective.)

The fact is, I have always held a fallacious belief that certain past times were Perfect, and the perfection is gone and will never come back. This is why one keeps diaries, to record the grim actuality. The fall of 2001, whose Saturday nights were delightfully spent with Baby Helen, had its moments; but it wasn't an overwhelmingly happy time at all.