Dear Diary,
After much deliberation in mine own mind, toying with Hume and Roussou, I've decided against going From Enlightenment to Romanticism and will be Reading Classical Latin instead. All after completing my next mod' Mediæval to modern history. On the Flex, naturally. I will need another tutor, a personal pedogogue, Pangloss. The wisest mind in all Westphælia, Franconia, and Frestonia. Aye. The Master.
I surmise I shall most defnately require his tutelage if I am to tackle learning Etymology, Syntax, Prosaic Challanges ahead. But why? Because I heard this morning from a potential venue, a gig, that calligraphic text be usually penned in Latin; I was also toying with the notion of penning work in an Illuminated Manuscript, full of art, also music, and of course mine flowery handwriting. Aye. I shall do that methinks.
Not for an essay, but for mine own amusement which should surely provide some slight mirth in a world otherwise devoid of stimulation: intellectually. Pangloss is a veritable powerhouse intellectually. Mass debate or intellectual intercourse aside...
It has been anything but boring these past few days, weeks, daze; most stimulating sexually, if not intellectually, as making love is no good distraction from focusing on my task. It's a great distraction, but not unlike art history itself: «une bonne maladie» as Pangloss quite rightly said.
I hate to be so far from Janie for so long, but the near insurmountable task of learning Latin cannot be done without his instruction. Help in understanding, writing - and speaking - all in French, then Latin. Aye. «Oui, Si». Anyhow, I gotta get goin'. Later baby.
Maximus Fleximus.
