"It is not much of life that is spent in close attention to any important duty. Many hours of every day are suffered to fly away without any traces left upon the intellects. We suffer phantoms to rise up before us, and amuse ourselves with the dance of airy images, which, after a time, we dismiss for ever, and know not how we have been busied. many have no happier moments than those they pass in solitude, abandoned to their own imagination.It is easy in these semi-slumbers to collect all the possibilities of happiness, to alter the course of the sun, to bring back the past, and anticipate the future, to unite all the beauties of all seasons, and all the blessings of all climates, to receive and bestow felicity, and forget that misery is the lot of man. All this is a voluntary dream, a temporary recession from the realities of life to airy fictions; an habitual subjection of reason to fancy. Others are afraid to be alone, and amuse themselves by a perpetual succession of companions: but the difference is not great; in solitude we have our dreams to ourselves, and in company we agree to dream in concert. The end sought in both is forgetfulness of self."
Today I went over to the bank to do monthly banking stuff and found after I got there that I had left the bankbook home. So, being retired, I calmly drove home and said I would do it another day. It did make me think about that kind of event, which seems to be more and more common as one wends one's way through the late sixties and beyond. There is really no reason not to remember to bring your bankbook, when you set out to go to the bank. Just a vagueness of intellect that slips in unnoticed. I prize my sharpness of mind, and when it starts slipping, then my "self" is diminished. I don't like the signs around me of such things.
Tonight I went over to the Metro and saw the new English language version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I had expected to have swift and strong opinions about its quality in comparison with the Swedish language version. To my surprise, I am still mulling over the comparison; I find the two movies quite different, even though they deal with the same plot. And I liked both of them. This movie is not structured to lead into a second and third movie to finish the trilogy, so there is a sequential difference that seems to be rearing as the movie evolves. I did like the double plot in this movie, the bringing together of Blomkvist and Salander as a team. Both versions have wonderful Swedish settings.
My mind felt okay thinking about these films, so maybe I am not senile yet.