Let Me All Your Fortunes Understand

Long weekends = Short weeks, I have no doubt. This one has flown, and the magic of tidal bore rafting with Mr. Toad proved well worth the early wakeup call. Over the free drinks afterward, it was only 7:30PM when we switched from the Vodka Red Bull to the doubles and the waitress asked whether we needed to go to work the next morning. Ha. When the tab was about to close hours later, my knee-jerk reaction was to secretly ask for 3 double rum and cokes under the wire. I heard the whooshing noise. There was also a martini called the Mailman that had a victoriously alcoholic secret ingredient. Much fun.

Smoked the second of the five huge cubans on Wednesday night with an old acquaintance. An affair was proposed, but I confess the idea of planning discrete meetings at afternoon matinees and anonymous motel rooms to be more exciting than the commission of the act itself. Perhaps.

There was discussion that night on the linearity of time - which made me recall the noble Jacques's great passage in As You Like It on ripening and rotting. A lovely scene. Still no response to last week's letter. I must be off to meet a Spanish girl who I am to provide with English lessons in exchange for Spanish phrases, so that is fun. There is always something. More later.

DUKE SENIOR
I think he be transform'd into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.

First Lord
My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

DUKE SENIOR
If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.

Enter JAQUES

First Lord

He saves my labour by his own approach.

DUKE SENIOR
Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily!

JAQUES
A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.'
When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.