Day 0437

I forced myself to get up and paint this morning without giving myself time to think about it. I rewarded myself by listening to the rest of Dangerous Liaisons: I had cunningly refused myself the joys of the audiobook if I wasn't at the easel. I have so far failed to live up to its exemplar of the non plus ultra of debauchery, although I suspect I may very well have the required moral fibre and physical stamina to pursue it. The book did of course have some kind of moral or other at the end but it all sounded like too much fun to ring true. All in all a commendably tidy plot, sumptuously rich in convents, grief-stricken families and deranged women and all told by expertly differentiated characters whom I shall miss. I particularly liked the idea of the octogenarian aunt greedily devouring the scandalous letters luridly recounting her nephew's wicked adventures (admittedly that is my interpretation of the saintly old crone based on approximately zero textual evidence).

Walked across town to have a coffee and to dose myself with a measure of human interaction. She, horrified by the killing of a rhino, describes herself as indifferent to humans but very sensitive to animal suffering. Later tucks into a pork baguette. Keeps cat trapped in her Parisian apartment. After dating a girl of similar inconsistency I am now trained to deal with such behaviour and do so by ignoring it rather than by challenging it.

What can you expect from a pig but a grunt?