The High Churchman Introduces Himself

Hello. My name is A. Morley Jaques and I am the Last of the High Churchmen. I make this claim in all seriousness and do not expect it to be refuted any time soon. It would, perhaps, be best if I were to further qualify and expand upon this assertion, but I realize that it is not yet the time for such matters to be addressed. No, now is the time for introductions.

 

Truth be told, I am getting rather tired of having to write introductions to myself. Most key aspects of me become rather apparent upon any actual meeting and I am not in the habit of pointing out the obvious. Nevertheless, we sojourners in cyberspace are not afforded the simple luxury of being able to see and directly assess any of the other disembodied entities we may encounter. This reality has often left me feeling rather strange and awkward in my attempts to establish any sort of social or intellectual connection. Those personages I meet online may well be idealizations or outright fabrications; they may well only be putting themselves forward in hopes of harassing me or selling me something. I don’t even know why I dwell upon this, but it is, indeed, a notion I cannot escape.

All the same, the author believes himself obligated to give some picture of himself in the hopes of establishing a greater sense of conviviality and trust in his readers. As I have already pointed out, composing yet another autobiographical trifle is a tedious undertaking for me at this time. I shall therefore give forth a previously composed text that serves toward the intended purpose of this entry. It was written only recently and, being rather set in my ways, nothing it enumerates about me has been subject to change. I apologize if this seems a shabby trick to play upon any new readers. All subsequent postings to The Last of the High Churchmen will be wholly original material and, just as the Bard said of his account of The Famous History of the Life of Henry the Eight, All Is True.

I am six feet one inch tall, 140 pounds. Being abnormally thin but not at all slight of build gives me something of a bony, awkward appearance, rather, I sometimes think, like an old, dead, mossy tree. I have exceedingly curly, sand-blond hair which is most often frizzed and shaggy due to infrequent care or cutting. My face, overall, has often reminded me of a friendly, inquisitive dog of the short-nosed variety, like a Boxer or Boston terrier due to my small, somewhat upturned nose and heavy jaw. I have deep set, blue-green eyes, a heavy brow ridge, and a pair of dark, bushy eyebrows that are my favorite physical feature. My arms and hands are long and bony, my legs are exceedingly strong, my feet are huge and white. I have only a few stray hairs on my chest, but my arms and legs are well covered with thick tracts of reddish brown.

 

I have smoked a pipe every day of my life since I was sixteen. If I am able, I will always have a briar or cob pipe clenched in the far side of my jaw, speaking or breathing between puffs. The tips of both of my index fingers are cracked and grey from tamping tobacco and usually black under the nails. I always smell like tobacco, though I don’t notice it. By the end of the day I often have ash and soot around my nose and mouth. I don’t notice this either. I always carry at least two pipes on me, as well as two boxes of matches, pipe cleaners, and two or more tins of tobacco.

 

My clothes are all worn and rumpled and do not fit me very well. All of my trousers are olive-green corduroy and extremely baggy. I cannot find a pair of pants in my size, but do not like belts and so I am always wearing suspenders. I have several pairs and, I will admit, I do try to wear a color that I think matches what else I am wearing. I have tee shirts only as undergarments or to sleep in. I leave my shirt collar open during the summer and button all the way up starting around October. I almost always wear tattered green sweaters and tweed jackets. None of my jackets have elbow patches. I wear my oldest jackets the most and do not remember to put on a newer, fresher one even when going to important meetings or attending church. I like, but seldom wear, neckties. My wife thinks that I should wear argyle sox and so now I do. I have brown leather boots which are rather expensive on account of the size of my feet. I try to buy shoes as little as possible, but attempt to disguise their beaten up, worn down appearance with frequent polishing.

 

I like cold, grey days, log fires, long, meandering walks, and stacks of books. I drink excessive amounts of strong, black tea all the year round. My favorite tobaccos are heavy, thick cut blends that taste and smell like wood smoke. I enjoy eating boiled vegetables and unseasoned meat. I like pie better than cake, my preferred variety being wild berry. I like beer, specifically ale, and try to tell myself that I can drink more of it than I can or should. I enjoy picking my nose, but hope that I manage to avoid it when people are watching.

 

I have more books than I do any thing else. One month out of the year or so I will resolve to get them all shelved and in order, though this does not remain en force for very long. They are in stacks and piles in every room of my house and I am proud to say that I can usually know where any one is at the time. I am not what I would consider a diligent or disciplined reader as I am usually reading three or more books at any one time, often not finishing any one at a stretch. Sometimes when I have to get up early and am too groggy to read, I will stare at them on the shelf or on the table to ease myself into the day. My favorite authors are those of Victorian England or of Classical Antiquity. I have instant and unreasonable respect for writers who employ flowery prose, long sentences, or allusions to Greek and Roman mythology.

I have a strange attraction to fat women. I avoid their company because I will become distracted and fixated by them. There is also the fact that many very often have unpleasant or abrasive personalities. They nevertheless haunt my dreams and my mind often wanders to thoughts of them eating excessive amounts of food or breaking chairs. I have never publicly admitted this.

The first thing that people always seem to notice about me, aside from the fact that I am unusually thin, is my deep, booming voice, which, I am told, is in the Basso profondo range. It can sound alternatively warm and comforting or dramatic and bombastic and has secured me a good deal of work on the stage or on the radio, though I find that I really do dislike performing. I do find great joy in reading Shakespeare or the Bible aloud to myself. I have noticed when I am up late with friends that my voice will gradually change to the point where I sound more raspy than anything else, like any working-class American male who is a heavy smoker.

I am strong, for my size, and have dug ditches and lifted heavy loads for a living more than once in my life. I abhor physical labor and mistrust people who define themselves by it all the same. I have shoveled garbage for eight hours a day, stacked crates, walked twenty miles to a hardware distributor and am ashamed to admit or recollect it.

I am extremely fond of religion and consider myself a Christian. I am uncomfortable with being sentimental or preachy about it and I sometimes wonder if this makes me bad. By creed I am an Anglican. This means that I spend every Sunday and major feast day in the company of old people. I very much wish that I could simply say that I am a member of the Church of England, as that is all that I have ever wanted. Most people would see me as being somewhere between a traditionalist Catholic and an extremely formal Lutheran. When I am bored, I will occupy my mind with liturgical minutiae and obscure events from English church history.

My one greatest flaw, the one from which all of my other flaws derive, is that I do not sleep enough. I have avoided sleep for as long as I can remember. My excuses for this change. It is truly a shame. My fondest memories have been in dreams.