Larkin about
Morning everyone.So begins my first full day of being 26.
Party last night was fun. Barbecue. Drinking. A small amount of dancing. More drinking. Ah yes. At one point the entire party decamped to my bedroom, which was strange.
The postgrads came too, which was cool. And I have to go to another postg housewarming this evening. Yey. My supervisor decided ultimately NOT to attend, which was something of a relief. Particularly since he's spent the last 2 days WATCHING me do stats over my shoulder. I mean. Really.
Got a fantastic email from my school yesterday:
I have checked your file and you have not submitted any work. I know you are exempt from certain modules. I have no research proposal, poster session or ethics proposal.
How well observed. Go them.
Well, I'm 26. How crazy. Not sure I care for proximity to 30, but I'm gonna try and make it work.
First off, a sausage sandwich, I think. Thence to town, shopping. Not going to do anything constructive today.
Thanks to Michael S for this:
On Being Twenty-six
I feared these present years,
The middle twenties,
When deftness disappears,
And each event is
Freighted with a source-encrusting doubt,
And turned to drought.
I thought: this pristine drive
Is sure to flag
At twenty-four or -five;
And now the slag
Of burnt-out childhood proves that I was right.
What caught alight
Quickly consumed in me,
As I foresaw.
Talent, felicity —
These things withdraw,
And are succeeded by a dingier crop
That come to stop;
Or else, certainly gone,
Perhaps the rest,
Tarnishing, linger on
As second-best.
Fabric of fallen minarets is trash.
And in the ash
Of what has pleased and passed
Is now no more
Than struts of greed, a last
Charred smile, a clawed
Crustacean hatred, blackened pride – of such
I once made much.
And so, if I were sure
I have no chance
To catch again that pure
Unnoticed stance,
I would calcine the outworn properties,
Live on what is.
But it dies hard, that world;
Or, being dead,
Putrescently is pearled,
For I, misled,
Make on my mind the deepest wound of all:
Think to recall
At any moment, states
Long since dispersed;
That if chance dissipates
The best, the worst
May scatter equally upon a touch.
I kiss, I clutch,
Like a daft mother, putrid
Infancy,
That can and will forbid
All grist to me
Except devaluing dichotomies:
Nothing, and paradise.
– Philip Larkin
How well observed. Go them.
Well, I'm 26. How crazy. Not sure I care for proximity to 30, but I'm gonna try and make it work.
First off, a sausage sandwich, I think. Thence to town, shopping. Not going to do anything constructive today.
Thanks to Michael S for this:
On Being Twenty-six
I feared these present years,
The middle twenties,
When deftness disappears,
And each event is
Freighted with a source-encrusting doubt,
And turned to drought.
I thought: this pristine drive
Is sure to flag
At twenty-four or -five;
And now the slag
Of burnt-out childhood proves that I was right.
What caught alight
Quickly consumed in me,
As I foresaw.
Talent, felicity —
These things withdraw,
And are succeeded by a dingier crop
That come to stop;
Or else, certainly gone,
Perhaps the rest,
Tarnishing, linger on
As second-best.
Fabric of fallen minarets is trash.
And in the ash
Of what has pleased and passed
Is now no more
Than struts of greed, a last
Charred smile, a clawed
Crustacean hatred, blackened pride – of such
I once made much.
And so, if I were sure
I have no chance
To catch again that pure
Unnoticed stance,
I would calcine the outworn properties,
Live on what is.
But it dies hard, that world;
Or, being dead,
Putrescently is pearled,
For I, misled,
Make on my mind the deepest wound of all:
Think to recall
At any moment, states
Long since dispersed;
That if chance dissipates
The best, the worst
May scatter equally upon a touch.
I kiss, I clutch,
Like a daft mother, putrid
Infancy,
That can and will forbid
All grist to me
Except devaluing dichotomies:
Nothing, and paradise.
– Philip Larkin
posted by Memehunter @ 11:24 AM
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