January 01, 2006

The Salutary Effects of Melancholy

Feeling a tad melancholic after a too boisterous New Year's Eve? Hey, that's a good thing!

P.S. And speaking of overly rambunctious feting about, no one I'm yet aware of has surpassed the superb description of a particularly noxious day after than that contained in Kingsley Amis' Lucky Jim:

Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, hed somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.

As I said, consummate and unrivaled (as far as I know!).

Posted by Gregory at January 1, 2006 03:40 PM | TrackBack (0)
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