The Awful Gladness Of the Matter

Gee..I could alternatively title this "The Unbearable Lightness of Being".Randomly my roomies decided that my being born sometime around circa 1978 was something that we should celebrate. Wait a minute.. not neccesarily celebrate but numb myself and be oblivious to the fact that the record shows nothing for the continues years of existence on this planet.If I were like Abou Ben Adhem and if the Angel woke me yesterday she would put my name following all the rest.

Strangely enough the stupor induced by alcohol reminded me a lot of Wodehouse's works.His thorougly mangled characters like Bertie Wooster remind me my own life is no different.

In "Something Fishy", consider the following dialogue between Keggs the butler and Mortimer Bayless the art critic:

“You are leaving Shipley Hall, sir?”
“I am. It stinks, and I am ready to depart.”

Lytton Strachey in her book Eminent Victorians has written this couplet:

"I warmed both hands before the fire of life.
It sinks, and I am ready to depart."

Now what has this got to do with me and the occasion.Plum was so prolific because he is the master of self-derivation – what now, is termed “repurposing.”

Here's raising a toast to his health