An Education Proven Worthy
A Comedy of Manners in which
the Heroine finds her Place in the World At Last
What with all of my selfish complaining lately about spinsterhood and sexual frustration, I've forgotten the One True Purpose of sexual congress. This is what it's all about, people. Ask anyone.
Furthermore (if I may be so presumptuous), I can now count myself among some illustrious company, including:
Other "fictional" role models include:
Joseph Kesselring's Arsenic and Old Lace
T.S. Eliot
Tennyson's The Princess
Joyce's The Dead
Dickens' Pickwick Papers
They may have died sick, miserable, and alone, but each achieved the esteem and admiration of the literary establishment, before being abandoned to history and the reading public's growing taste for low-brow works such as the newspaper serial Fear Factor, A Gothick Novel in Six Parts; Extreme Makeover Whore Edition: Merkins, White Lead, and Mercury; as well as neoclassically-tinged exposés like Girls Gone Wild: The Real Story of Homer's Odyssey.
Rest assured, despite my heretofore stated ambitions and natural impulses to the contrary, I fully expect to realize this fate by
1) never writing anything that nets shitloads of money, unbelievable popularity, or Pamela Anderson-esque fame (in my lifetime) - except for what appears in this blog
2) never marrying or producing children
3) contracting tuberculosis, Addison's disease, or dropsy
4) from this point forward, eschewing the spotlight, ceasing my narcissitic attempts at self-aggrandizement, and relenquishing any pretenses to self-love
5) having a years-long, tragic, and very secret love affair with someone who shall not be named, which will not be discovered until long after my untimely death by an unsuspecting young descendant researching her family tree for a sixth-grade history assignment, and which will change everyone's mind about me, preferably for the worse.
posted at 12:35 PM
5 Comments:
As an added bonus, some of the cures for The Dropsy include burying yourself in dung and bloodletting.
The question is, EGIT, did you recognize me right off, or only after I turned those loud guys at the bar into pigs?
Or so you think. BTW, have you taken a look in the mirror lately?
My worn VHS copy of Aenid Action: Wet Toga Bacchanal lists a script credit to one "Lisa H." Methinks you are down-playing your accompliments to feed an over-burdened martyr complex. That dialogue is HOT!
OK, you've got me.
And in case you were wondering - yes, I also had something to do with "Talk dirty to me: Plato and Socrates tell it like it is"; "Sex and Sexibility," and "Oliver's Fist."
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