...but I think we need to see other people. No, no, dear, of course I'm not breaking up with you, it's just that I need...some...time.
So Buce to Marcel Proust, or perhaps to his shadow Marcel, hero of his 3,000-page doorstop, À la recherche du temps perdu. Seems like only yesterday (actually, I guess it was last month) that I set out to make the long journey through this which Edmund White calls the most respected of 20th Century novels. I suspected what would happen, and it happened. As long as i had an hour or two or three a day, I was able to keep a rhythm, and even follow up with some of the original French.
But then school started and now here I am back in the classroom with the markedly un-Proustian agenda of bankruptcy and corporate finance. And I can certify that Proust and the finance classroom just don't mix. It's not the time: I'm not one to work 18 hours a day at anything, and I probably could find time for an hour, maybe even two, or three, a day to indulge my Belle Epoque enthusiasm.
I suppose you could say it's brain cells: I've reached the age where 200,000 brain cells die every day and I just can't risk destroying too many of the survivors in a private enthusiasm. But it'd not just brain cells. No; it is the utter discontinuity of tone, of manner, of sensibility that it takes to move from one to the other. I woulds get the bends, and bends are not covered by my health plan.
I expect to be back in the spring, Lord willin.' And if the Lord is not willin'--if I die with a stack of Prousts on the night table--why then, you'll know that I was never bored, that I never ran out of stuff to read.
Now, exactly which things are there about financial accounting that my students just must learn?
So Buce to Marcel Proust, or perhaps to his shadow Marcel, hero of his 3,000-page doorstop, À la recherche du temps perdu. Seems like only yesterday (actually, I guess it was last month) that I set out to make the long journey through this which Edmund White calls the most respected of 20th Century novels. I suspected what would happen, and it happened. As long as i had an hour or two or three a day, I was able to keep a rhythm, and even follow up with some of the original French.
But then school started and now here I am back in the classroom with the markedly un-Proustian agenda of bankruptcy and corporate finance. And I can certify that Proust and the finance classroom just don't mix. It's not the time: I'm not one to work 18 hours a day at anything, and I probably could find time for an hour, maybe even two, or three, a day to indulge my Belle Epoque enthusiasm.
I suppose you could say it's brain cells: I've reached the age where 200,000 brain cells die every day and I just can't risk destroying too many of the survivors in a private enthusiasm. But it'd not just brain cells. No; it is the utter discontinuity of tone, of manner, of sensibility that it takes to move from one to the other. I woulds get the bends, and bends are not covered by my health plan.
I expect to be back in the spring, Lord willin.' And if the Lord is not willin'--if I die with a stack of Prousts on the night table--why then, you'll know that I was never bored, that I never ran out of stuff to read.
Now, exactly which things are there about financial accounting that my students just must learn?
1 comment:
"Now, exactly which things are there about financial accounting that my students just must learn?"
They must learn that a madeleine, properly accounted for, may appear as an asset, a liability, and a contra-asset, but is always Excess Equity in the right hands.
Which are rarely those of the company whose books you are reviewing.
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