Blog entry: 15 October 2015

I just had one of those days in which my predominant facial expression consisted primarily of me having on a sardonic, cynical and wry smile. Everything was amusing to me, without becoming outright humorous, every other person on the planet was inferior to the great and mighty me! So calm was I that nothing could quite ruffle my feathers. Not the decidedly hard topic of combined torsion and bending in the mechanics presentation, not the countless hoards of bodacious babes scattered around the campus (okay, to be fair, those never do achieve such effect), certainly not the ruthless and cruel pranks the guys in my class played to devastating effect (maybe that’s because I wasn’t the victim in this case).  Nothing was up to my standard today, and I let those who I could know it.

My walk was the slow, decided saunter of the old man who’s lived a full, rich and contented life, and who is slightly under the effects of post-dinner red wine. My face betrayed as much mirth and contention. I didn’t care much to be bothered with the niceties of polite conversation, nor the socially mandated greetings. All I wanted was to be left to my quiet contemplation and review of the higher questions and phenomena of this our world. Any diversion from said state brought about a comically quizzical look which was abundantly bestowed upon such and all as had deigned to break said state of tranquility. Needless to say, it can be a lonely world this blissful world so painted, but by golly is it Utopia!

As the smile on my lips stretches further in the typing of this blog, it leaves me wondering as to the cause or causes of such inner peace. Could it be the very relaxing music of the sweetly-singing Randy Crawford in which I absolutely immersed myself the evening last? Could it yet be ascribed to my temperament of the previous day, which was mostly black, a consequence of my skipping supper, breakfast, a bath (due to lack of resources being available to me), and the added effect of my being left with a jersey on even though the weather never got to be as cold as it was threatening to be in the morning hours? I highly doubt that last scenario though, for it was nigh the same case in this my day of absolute placation. Whatever the reason for this pacified state, it sure was a nice way to go through the day. Let’s see what tomorrow brings, and whether the normal me (who is he) returns!

J. Isaacs

Many look forward to the end of winter with high hopes and expectations. For them summer is somewhat like Italy, or Rome; a place of fantasy where all is one big joyous, romantic and blissful existence. It is a time to laugh in the rain, a time to receive perky little kisses by 'neath the shade of the giant oak, a time of much laughter, mirth and poolside parties. For a poor student bearing down the road in the sweltering and punishing heat of October however, the beckoning of summer is not without serious misgivings, groaning and misery.

It heralds the onset of those highly confusing nights when one is torn between suffering a near heat-stroke whilst in the safety of the blankets, or whether to forgo the blanket and go face-to-face with the vermin of the nighttime. It brings with it the forbidding heat which demands that one walk around the house semi-naked, and that every jog terminate in a cold shower. But worst of all, it brings with it the worst thing in the world, flies!

Musca domestica! It's hard to understand anyone who doesn't hate these creatures. With their silly little bulbous heads, big ugly eyes, their silly little habit of rubbing their feet together, their silly little tendencies of buzzing around your head in the most annoying manner imaginable when all you're trying to do is walk in peace; their aggravating propensity to land on the very food that you're preparing eschewing all other manner of victuals that they may have as options; their habit of buzzing around your head as you are deep in thought trying to master the vagaries of advanced calculus. These creatures bring out the worst in the civilized of us!

In my younger years many an hour was spent in earnest and prolonged pursuit of this such vermin, and many great successes were recorded in their expurgation. I made myself makeshift swatters from rolled up newspaper, shirts, PJs, racquets, books and just about anything which wouldn't shatter on sharp impact. I would awaken from the deepest slumber at the slightest hint of a buzz from a fly, and I'd swat and sweat till I got the bastard! I killed just about every single fly that wandered into my room. There were days when I'd shut down every single window in the house, and proceed to engage with those creatures in a full-scale war, and these wars often ended when there was not a single fly left with breath inside it. To spice it up, sometimes I'd engage my crueler side and burn them to death, the most agonizing death I could conjure up. This however I didn't enjoy, for the smell of burning fly nauseates me. With the passing of years this relentless zeal for the extermination of flies has diminished a little, but the hate is just as fervent as ever. Blessed shall be the man who rids the world of flies!

Summer then is a period I very much want to go through quickly. I cannot stand the torment for long!