…ways quite mysterious.  Today’s sonnet, and it’s companion are written in response or reflection to this post.  These few offhand words by Lady Day struck me a certain way–sparked, one might say a memory.  Regarding the nature of love, and work, and how, so very often, hard work is the very way, particularly among men, in which we most often express our love.  Need it be that way?  I do not believe myself to be a perfect judge of such things.  I will here state that it may depend somewhat on temperament.  I have found it in myself at times, to be necessary–or at least to seem so–to make myself harder and more practical–and this can, very naturally, push ones romantic nature to the back, while bringing to the fore ones desire to do such practical things as life may sometimes demand.

Perhaps one can keep oneself from becoming too hard–becoming all one way, or another.  I believe I have struck a balance between these two at times, while swinging wildly to one side or another, at other times.   Still one must understand that life always is in flux, as perhaps, I  intimated above.   Sometimes a man might swing one way or another between practical and romantic.   Sometimes he may not.  Sometimes he might see no compromise to be necessary between the two.   I believe, to give a simple example, that Walt Whitman was a banker or insurance company executive of some kind–once again relying on the grey matter here, although I’d see no harm in typing this into google.

In any case, the real date of this writing is November 24th, and this puts me a bit behind in my writing this week.  I’ll endeavour to catch it up by tomorrow, however I find myself to be far too tired this evening to go on writing even though I feel otherwise able–not ever suffering from any kind of “writer’s block.”

I really must catch it all up, before I can permit myself to write any more about Jake and his friends.