It's in the sixties this morning, and I'm happily drinking coffee and eating danish while wearing a sweater dress. I have about twelve other things I should be doing right now, but for the moment, I'm reading T.S. Eliot. There's just something about this weather that makes me crave some Thomas Stearns. Best of all, T.S. is significantly more enjoyable than the novel I'm at present forcing myself to finish. More on that later. For now, go brew a pot of coffee, and (if you can) sit outside and take a deep breath of fresh air, let the coming of autumn seep happily into your bones, and read:
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!']
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!']
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
excerpt from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot