Most Notoriously Abused

I finished Shakespeare, I finished Shakespeare! Haha. But I loathe Twelfth Night. I am sure it is all very enjoyable on-stage, but I cannot stand it in its written form. Now all I have to do is analyse and understand it. Right.

I am also convinced the Sir Toby of Dinner for One is a rip-off/allusion to Shakespeare. Blargh, why must he be everywhere?

Most Notoriously Abused

I finished Shakespeare, I finished Shakespeare! Haha. But I loathe Twelfth Night. I am sure it is all very enjoyable on-stage, but I cannot stand it in its written form. Now all I have to do is analyse and understand it. Right.

I am also convinced the Sir Toby of Dinner for One is a rip-off/allusion to Shakespeare. Blargh, why must he be everywhere?

"We Want to be Devoured by it, to Hide Ourselves in That Fire Which Refines Us"

I love university. It is, I think, as close as I will ever get to a Secret History experience, in that I am absolutely intoxicated when I leave for home. Strike that, I am home. Home, home, home. And in love. Insane discussions about macro- and microcosm, fools in disguise as a picture of identity and whom we are to trust. Shakespeare was fun, though I do not understand much. I am even writing nonsense in my LJ, very Secret History of me. Unastonishingly, I am back to maddening, complicated, spaced interpretations of everything. I am home, Darlings.

Someone exclaimed something along the lines of "You feel everything so strongly, Alex", and I am so glad I do. I pity those that never feel what I do when I read a very good book, eat something divine, hear something that leaves me in stitches or watch a sad movie. "And never have known the passionate undivided / Fidelities that I knew" ("The House Dog's Grave", Robertson Jeffers). They are missing out. I would not swap my temper for anything in the world. Nor my passion.

I think I know what it is about middle-aged/old(er) men. There is something in the way they carry themselves; a certain dignity, a hint of things lived and of knowledge possessed. Security, perhaps? It is very rare, but does occasionally occur in younger men. Not that they usually have pants that fit - as opposed to having the waist relocated to their knees - turns me off them, either.

I want to write my master's in English on Nabokov, and then go on to find some obscure question on to research for a Ph.D.

The title is, by the way, from The Secret History. Surpise! Off to print English-stuff on sonnets, Romanticism, eliot, et al, and be a very happy geek.

"We Want to be Devoured by it, to Hide Ourselves in That Fire Which Refines Us"

I love university. It is, I think, as close as I will ever get to a Secret History experience, in that I am absolutely intoxicated when I leave for home. Strike that, I am home. Home, home, home. And in love. Insane discussions about macro- and microcosm, fools in disguise as a picture of identity and whom we are to trust. Shakespeare was fun, though I do not understand much. I am even writing nonsense in my LJ, very Secret History of me. Unastonishingly, I am back to maddening, complicated, spaced interpretations of everything. I am home, Darlings.

Someone exclaimed something along the lines of "You feel everything so strongly, Alex", and I am so glad I do. I pity those that never feel what I do when I read a very good book, eat something divine, hear something that leaves me in stitches or watch a sad movie. "And never have known the passionate undivided / Fidelities that I knew" ("The House Dog's Grave", Robertson Jeffers). They are missing out. I would not swap my temper for anything in the world. Nor my passion.

I think I know what it is about middle-aged/old(er) men. There is something in the way they carry themselves; a certain dignity, a hint of things lived and of knowledge possessed. Security, perhaps? It is very rare, but does occasionally occur in younger men. Not that they usually have pants that fit - as opposed to having the waist relocated to their knees - turns me off them, either.

I want to write my master's in English on Nabokov, and then go on to find some obscure question on to research for a Ph.D.

The title is, by the way, from The Secret History. Surpise! Off to print English-stuff on sonnets, Romanticism, eliot, et al, and be a very happy geek.