An English In Kentucky


















Thursday September 5th 2019Tim Candler9


     I guess it's a sad day when a sharpie pen of some sort becomes a nail in the coffin of sanity, the mind goes to the circus, practices with the big shoes and giant handkerchief, reinvents itself as a clown and somehow or other it's Patagonia's fault. Rather hoping the nail in question would be, shall we call it less obvious. Mind you the line, even though it made no sense in terms of the pattern it was so carefully attached to, wasn't in the least wiggly, the kind of confidence in line drawing that comes from a lot of practice, and practice requires diligence, I mean you don't just pick up a piano and assume you can play jingle bells. But there again you have to be a died in the wool something or other to assume your addition of an irrationally random bulge to a most orderly, well rhyming pattern wouldn't look anything other than shall we say eyebrow raising. Then to suggest it reflects the truth is either inspiring or absolutely terrifying.


     The issue, to my way of thinking at least, is why didn't anyone say "this is going to make you look not just stupid but certifiably, nut house stupid." Nor am I perfect, as a tender youth, callow in the extreme, I had an interest in the idea of reading a book. It was hardback, quite heavy, how hard could it be, and I sat down determined to read it. And amongst caretakers there was a raised eyebrow or two, but it kept me occupied, I was an obnoxiously active and opinionated little sprat in those days, and it all worked quite well. "What's he doing?" "He's reading."  I felt powerful, important, full of promise, and we're talking "he will go far" Einstein level promise. Then some bright spark with a truly aggressive attitude who was obviously jealous that I was reading asked me what the book was about. Having not yet mastered the first three letters of the alphabet, this humbling question I was unable to answer.  The book in question, Washington Irving's 1849 history "Mohomet and his Successors" is on the shelf by my bed. Yes indeed, a cruel memory, still feel stupid for having been so transparently stupid.


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