mjj (flemmings) wrote,

Wandered next door the other night; next door was watching Downton Abbey, season four, of which I know absolutely nothing. A fascinating and hallucinatory experience, especially for someone incapable of telling one young male face from another when they're all dressed alike. (And now I understand that conversation in Gaudy Night about shirtfronts, which have to be the silliest piece of male attire since the codpiece.)

I can recognize the Earl- if that's what he is- because he looks like no one else, and the butler because he has truly an ugly voice, but otherwise... And why is the lower-class rural accent servant sitting at the table with the family when the bad penny servant is constantly being put in his place by the butler but still sounds to me like the huntin' chap who's after the dark-haired sister, and why is bad penny abetting blond fellow servant in his amours with that dreadful pushing woman, and why are are we setting our bedrooms on fire, and who are these two children so very seen and not heard when none of the sisters appears to be married, and and and-- a bunch of stuff that's finally answered by ninety minutes' googling this morning. (Sort of. Because there's that seen-and-not-heard little girl I can't place: not the middle daughter's who's still at the farmhouse, not the youngest daughter's who hasn't been born yet, which I know because spoiler.)

It's high-class soap opera, which doubtless has its place. Still think the fact that people who watch it so avidly est une grande preuve de la mélancolie de vivre, except watching Breaking Bad or The Sopranos is even more so.

                                  ...May all Mycenean
mountains remind us that over
                                  the darkest of caves and crimes
as over the violent lives of violent men
                                  the great white clouds of summer, like
compassion, may sometimes, sooner
                                  or later, pass in a silent
Tags: rl_15, verse

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