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!

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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.
    Jeff

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  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!

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  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!

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  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.

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

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