The Horrible Weight of Time, and Its Cure (With Apologies to Baudelaire)

I wish to make it known that yesterday afternoon I received a package in the mail which effectively signals the beginning of the end.

And what was this package, you ask? Well, my gentle snowflakes, it was a kind gift from the Irreverend Mr Ker on the occasion of my upcoming 30th birthday. Since I am not allowed to open the package until my dies natalis, August 29, I’m afraid that I cannot yet comment on the excellencies of this much-appreciated lingagift; I can tell you, however, that receiving it brought home with particular force that I am less than a week and a half away from the end of my 20s. O woe! O sorrow! Alas, true indeed are the words of the Psalmist:

“The days of a mortal are as grass;
he blossoms like a wild flower in the meadow:
a wind passes over him, and he is gone,
and his place knows him no more.”
(Psalm 103:15-16, REB)

I can sense, O reader, your earnest sympathy for my birthday predicament, and I thank you for it. “But surely,” you say, “there is something that I can do, isn’t there, which will help soothe your exceeding great grief!” And as a matter of fact, there is. I was formerly loath to speak of such things in public, but I have been persuaded by my friend and confidant Nick Norelli to overcome my reservations and speak boldly. It is, then, with parrēsia that I share with you all the indubitable cure for my heart’s sorrows:

Yes, dear ones: it is there that you can find a smooth balm (or two) for my grieving heart, and a sure way to concretize your laudable altruistic yearnings. Once again, I’m deeply grateful to your tender heart for your interest in my wretched plight. And remember: O woe! O sorrow!


8 responses to “The Horrible Weight of Time, and Its Cure (With Apologies to Baudelaire)

  1. I’m too poor to help you out materially. I just bought that Greek book you’re making me study because I can’t use the library book forever.

    On turning 30:
    1. It’s when Jesus was old enough to start His ministry.
    2. People will take you more seriously (not that they didn’t before).
    3. You’re not old yet!

    Fear not, O pathetic beloved brother of woe.


  2. The sauce for this goose is that you’re already in your thirtieth year.

    So there.

    Congratulations on your upcoming adulthood, and leaving all childish things behind!


  3. Jeff> Oh, I would much rather that you spend your hard-earned money on Mounce for yourself than in a book for me! And darn skippy I'm making you study it. I just wish I was better with email! I can't believe I still have to get back to you. Oops.

    Dave> Oh, stephapotami are my absolute favoritest! Here's hoping. ;-)

    Kevin> Again, how true are the words of the Psalmist (and in that HTM translation you love so much):

    "For if mine enemy had reviled me, I might have endured it. And if he that hateth me had spoken boastful words against me, I might have hid myself from him. But thou it was, O man of like soul with me, my guide and my familiar friend, thou who together with me didst sweeten my repasts; in the house of God I walked with thee in oneness of mind."

    Why must you so cruelly increase my grief! I tell you, if you hadn't already gifted me with the exceeding great gift of Thomson (and also that other thing you sent), I would impose a penalty of two books on account of your heartless comment. ;-) Anyway, many thanks, dear friend! I have stated before that I wish to be like John Hobbins when I grow up, which I have been told happens upon one’s 30th birthday; we’ll see if I suddenly start posting about ancient Hebrew poetry not many days hence!


  4. Ahem: I’m thinking of making this my new tagline:

    Esteban: I have a bag full of large denomination US bills which I was going to send you, but since you only asked for books, I’ll have to decline and send it to someone else.


  5. So, what are “large denomination” bills? Like, Southern Baptist ones? If so, you can keep them; just send the books. ;-)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s