mjj (flemmings) wrote,

The Lusty Month of November

Friday in t-shirt, Sunday in winter coat amid the ice and hail.

Worked from 10:30 yesterday morning to a quarter to one this morning. Do not feel I accomplished much but hell, it's money.

Last night was the Little Girls, but not-so-little-anymore M was called for her first baby-sitting gig, so I spent a pleasant evening with the taciturn L. Watched several eps of Once Upon A Time which, since I never watch television, mind-wormed me well into today. Certainly it drowned out whatever might be happening in The Courtier. Not surprisingly, as L's mother remarked that Once Upon A Time is fairy tales turned into soap opera.
Thus, in old age the sweet flowers of contentment fall from our hearts, as in autumn the leaves fall from the trees, and in place of bright and clear thoughts there comes a cloudy and turbid sadness attended by a thousand ills. So that not only the body but the mind is enfeebled, and retains of past pleasures merely a lingering memory and the image of that precious time of tender youth in which (while we were enjoying it), wherever we look, heaven and earth and everything appear merry and smiling, and the sweet springtime of happiness seems to flower in our thoughts as in a delightful and lovely garden.
Not that my youth felt like that at all, actually.
Sometimes, thinking it to be droll and witty, they say the dirtiest and most indecent things in the presence of honourable ladies, and even to the ladies themselves; and the more they make these ladies blush, the more they rate themselves good Courtiers, and they laugh and pride themselves on having such a fine accomplishment, as they deem it. Yet they commit all this folly with no other aim than to be thought jolly good fellows: this is the one name which seems to them worthy of praise and of which they boast more than of any other; and to acquire it, they utter the grossest and most shameful vileness in the world. Often they throw one another down-stairs, deal each other blows with sticks and bricks, cast handfulls of dust in one another's eyes, make one another's horses run into ditches or down some hill; then at table they throw soups, sauces, jellies and every kind of thing in one another's faces: and then they laugh.
The Good Ol' Boy ye have always with you.
...generally speaking it seems to me that as regards breeding the Spaniards have more in common with the Italians than the French have; because that grave reserve peculiar to the Spaniards befits us far more than the quick vivacity which among the French we see in almost every movement...
How the Italians have changed...
Yet besides goodness, I think that letters are for everyone the true and principal ornament of the mind: although the French recognize only the nobility of arms and esteem all else as naught. Thus they not only fail to prize but they abhor letters, and hold all men of letters most base, and think they speak very basely of any man when they call him a clerk.
And the French too, out of all recognition!
Tags: history, reading_16, rl_16

  • Summing Up

    The clear sun slants into my black and white hallway, shining from the blue sky of another and happier year. Last year's reading challenge was a…

  • Turn of the year

    The Dead Days this year are cold rather than warm- reasonable cold, not arctic vortex- so the grey is sharp and hard-edged and sprinkled with white…

  • (no subject)

    Our bus.cord makes cookies for everyone and hands them out in individual packages along with cards. The cookies are always excellent and I dole them…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded