…because I can’t possibly let it go! Well, that wrapped up the one and only week at the ‘new’ job. That wasn’t even enough time for Bilbo & co. to get from Hobbiton to the Goblin Gate. But I shan’t feel guilty; I did my best, such that the management threw all they had at me to try to get me to stay. At least I know I left because I wasn’t right for the job (or it wasn’t right for me), rather than because I *couldn’t* do it. Misery, weepy evenings and sleepless nights, Lord-willing, are a thing of the past. Perhaps the next adventure will be closer to my favourite flavor (rather an ugly mixed metaphor, but I had too much for lunch, and there’s more blood going to my sore tummy than to the creative part of my brain). For more on yucky tummy distendedness (as well as rottenness and bloating in general), see Persius’ Satires. For literary reflection on turbot (fine dining), see Juvenal’s Satire 4 (that’s a bit misleading, but it’s worth reading, so I won’t edit it). Perhaps it is time to brew a digestif — liquorice & mint tea. Blergh.
The autumn sun shines golden, the air is crisp, fresh and earthy, and there are cheery chubby pumpkins in the shop windows. And yet the trees are offensively behind; Reformation day is Thursday, and then it is November. What if we have no autumn? Gasp. I’m going to put the kettle on.
It is wonderfully tempting to continue to be frivolous today. I begin to think that this locale would be most useful as a signpost, directing people to the writing of more informed and wiser folk; I certainly wouldn’t flatter myself that my pop-culture recommendations would be taken seriously (especially in the realm of music!), but I’ll take the opportunity to make some anyway. Recommendations for today:
Film: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Television: One Man and his Dog
Music: Tina Turner, “Simply the Best”
How ludicrous! Most people offering recommendations on such things would provide reasons, justifications, or vehement defence. I won’t do that; these things need no excuse.
On the church-going front, the well-known (at least in some circles) mega-church pastor in the Carolinas has finally been featured in the local news. And why? for what? For building a house bigger than that owned by the one and only Harrison Ford. “In Pastor S—-‘s house are many rooms; if it were not so, NBC news would have told you…” But his name isn’t on the deed. Is anyone surprised by this or any of the other little not-so-straightforward details? Facts are stubborn things, as John Adams once said, and right will prevail, as Henry Tunstall once said. And flapjacks deserve more recognition than tiramisu, as I once said. Fluffy hunk of nothing, tiramisu–worst dessert ever invented. And thus it was.