June 9, 2010. Wednesday.
Situation: Work late morning and early afternoon, and have to work again tonight. When I get home about 1:30, Mway and Moi are taking a nap, so I lie down to rest also. Besides it’s raining fairly hard. Everyone gets up about an hour later, and it’s now about 2:45. It’s now only drizzling, and I’ve gone on walks in a drizzle before, but now I’m also more pressed for time. Mway is pacing around the kitchen, in expectation that I’m going to take her out; I ask Moi for her advice, and she says I don’t have to take Mway out for a walk in a drizzle. “Mwayla,” she says, “you go on walks a lot. It’s raining today.” So I’ve decided to forego a walk today, which will give me plenty of time to shave and shower and get dressed for work tonight. Outside my office window, I notice, for the first time this year, a number of day lilies down by the summer house in bloom.
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2 comments:
It’s interesting to consider the dandy’s fascination with perfume, as in Huysmans’ A rebours, the poisonous book of Dorian Gray. Scents, those most practical and natural of signs, severed from all earthly ties, delighted in for their own sake, an analogue to the aesthete’s “L’art pour l’art.” Proust would later sniff and dispense an entire oeuvre from the act. But I’m sorry to digress. What new words were you learning?
Who’s this Huysmans you refer to? I don’t remember ever coming across one of his books on your shelves? M.
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