One of the nymphs caught Hylas by the elbow; another put her arms around his neck, another took the hand that held the vessel of bronze. The pitcher sank down to the depths of the spring. The hands of the nymphs clasped Hylas tighter, tighter; the water bubbled around him as they drew him down. Down, down they drew him, and into the cold and glimmering cave where they live.
You know when you’re reading real metaphysics when your pace grinds to three pages an hour and you give up any hopes of finishing the book soon. And when the only chance of getting something out of this laborious effort is to get your pencil out and try to summarize whatever argument you’re in the midst of. This usually opens the door to a world of questions. If only you work up the gumption, and are willing to forgo breezier titles the while. Such is my predicament with Oderberg’s Real Essentialism.
Another reason to think on dismal, and another reason to get the cover for that gadget as soon as you buy it: Papa reads late. Papa drifts off. Tablet slips to mattress. Child crawls under covers in the middle of the night. Then another. Both potty trained, but prone to relapse…
Dismal again: configuration blues. My application can’t find the very .so file I am looking at with my own eyes. Path variable looks good. Tried rebooting and reinstalling. Several times. Hate to pop the hood on these things.
Google gives dies mali as the origin of dismal - evil days - by way of something called Anglo-Norman French. And shows that it has dropped in popularity (i.e. in written texts, extant and determined scanworthy by Google) since 1800. Does this make me a holdout?