Never Mind.....

I don’t know if you had read Dodie Smith removed from 101 Dalmatians. Her wit is subtle in defining a well turned-out woman in the society evidenced in a dialogue between the Mortmain couple about their American neighbour Mrs Cotton.

No, of course not. But she happens to belong to a type I frequently met – it goes to lectures. And entertains afterwards – sometimes they put one up for the night; they’re extraordinarily hospitable.’ He sat on the kitchen table, swinging his legs, looking rather boyish. ‘Amazing, their energy,’ he went on. ‘They’re perfectly capable of having three or four children, running a house, keeping abreast of art, literature and music – superficially of course but, good lord, that’s something – and holding down a job into the bargain. Some of them get through two or three husbands as well, just to avoid stagnation.’

‘I shouldn’t think any husband could stay the course for more than a few years,’ said Topaz.

‘I felt that myself at first – the barrage of talk left me utterly depleted. But after a time I got used to it. They’re rather like punch-balls – you buffet them, they buffet you, and on the whole the result’s most stimulating.’

‘Unless they knock you out altogether,’ said Topaz, drily.

‘They have that effect occasionally,’ Father admitted. ‘Quite a number of American men are remarkably silent.’

‘She seemed to know a lot about Jacob Wrestling,’ I said.

‘She’d probably read it up before she came – they do that, and very civil of them. Curious how many of them are prematurely grey; most becoming. And I must say it’s a pleasure to see a woman so well turned-out.’

 

I am cautioned by John Cheever’s enormous radio! More than revelation, they are provocation of perplexities and absurdities in veiled anthropological pit. Re: stepping in, I practise Schopenhauer and never cut along but if I am considerably aroused to meddle in human affairs with a stinging reply in that amateur anthropological dust-up, I remind myself of this fetched-up Malcolm Muggeridge’s saying:

“I wrote in a mood of anger, which I find rather absurd now: not so much because the anger was, in itself, unjustified, as because getting angry about human affairs is as ridiculous as losing one's temper when an air flight is delayed.” — Chronicles of Wasted Time.

If I am confused in observation, I ignore. If I am amused in observation, I write back. If I am annoyed in observation, I hold back thereafter from any anthropological engagement with concerned party even with beguiling flashes of cultural ascendency through the interactions.

 

Your Penrod? Milady, you might not have realized but I mercilessly snatched your Penrod from you. Both Schopenhauer and Penrod are mine now with gratuitous citations in my whatsapp dialogues. Friend even asked, heard of pendrive but what is penrod. Go and find someone else (evil laughter)!

 

I am irritably confused when slogans like “money cannot buy happiness” are flared up in populist demonstrations. Not even the most half-witted moron would dreamily haul coins to buy “happiness” at Old Nick’s tent in a caravan. You don’t buy happiness but build happiness from money. Money enables you to pursue a path with its purchasing power that can lead to happiness. It’s so uncomplicated, I don’t know why people confuse that insight by citing the depraved tabloid celebrities.

Disraeli and Bodley hatched great plans to reform society by marrying into wealthy families through which their pecuniary concerns were been taken care of and they could focus on loftier aspirations in life.

I am glad you were not idealized into wrong-headed notions in life.

If I had wealth, then I would have been a blithe flâneur insured from grades and employment and tax and pension. I too would have jauntily pursued utterly useless courses for the heck of being able to afford it in lieu of fetching courses.

 

Steffi Graf answers marriage proposal at Wimbledon

No backhanded inquiry! I like her forthright inquiry of ‘marrying into money’ even if he happens to be an unseeable yet besotted fan.

 

Feigning bafflement over the romantic entanglements of the time, Heilpern writes:

Let's see: Osborne is on a besieged holiday with his aggrieved mistress while having a passionate affair with his future third wife as the founding artistic director of the Royal Court has a nervous breakdown and his current wife gives birth to a son that isn't his.
​

That’s John Osborne, the English playwright who coined the phrase ‘angry young man’ in a nutshell. Have his acclaimed “look back in anger” film wishlisted on Prime to watch since ages. Postmodern romances are resistant to yield to conservative scruples. They blithely flourish amidst the chaos and confusion.