:: I need to tell someone ::

as you may have gathered from my LBD references and quotes and more references and quotes, I reference and quote LBD a lot. I truly enjoyed it. so when pemberley digital began their emma approved series, I was stoked… for a while. I'm not a huge fan of joanna sotomura's acting style, but I can live with it; I suppose she fits emma enough. harriet/dayeanne hutton drives me up the wall, but again, I can live with it. how?
   in two words, brent bailey. he is fabulous as a modern spin on mr. knightley, and really makes it all worth it. I'm pretty excited to see where this goes. I mean, I know where this goes, but I want to see how they do it. what?? don't judge me.

anyway, I watched the few first episodes when they first came out, was unimpressed, and dropped it, but a few weeks later one of my friends (amy dashwood, to be exact) mentioned something about it and I was so darn curious I went back and haven't stopped. it sort of gets better with time. and I've always loved mr. knightley, so… you know….

welllllllll, this all is merely background to the latest episode (#41) which just came out today. senator elton shows up to ask emma to plan his engagement party. she is of course "extremely put. out.", though mr. knightley's take is (also of course) hilarious ("actually I think it's a remarkable thi-- buut you obviously don't agree") and senator elton is still his mr.-elton-ish self. I was all enjoying the characters playing out their personalities when, woohoo, mrs. e shows up.

!
!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I screeched. my eyes popped out about a foot. I laughed and screeched again.
SENATOR E IS MARRYING CAROLINE LEE.
HOLY COW.

guess I can't stop now.

:: sometimes it's not just sour grapes ::

you know when you really want something, and you can't have it, but in the end you're actually really glad you didn't get it?
no?
me neither.

that's one of the odd topics that edwin arlington robinson touches on in his poem "richard cory". not many people are familiar with edwin arlington robinson; I am only familiar with a few of his poems, even less with him. I like what I've read enough to be curious about his other stuff, but not curious enough to have already done the research. later.
maybe.

"richard cory" is pretty self-explanatory. there's this dude. he's rich. everybody's like "WOO RICHARD CORY" -- only quietly and respectfully -- and the last line is breathtakingly shocking and raw and revelatory. but what I like about the poem is it's extraordinary relatable-ness. it's extraordinary because you can relate to both sides at once.

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

robinson sets up cory's status right away: "we people on the pavement". "we people" are removed from this one man by an intangible social status displayed in the very tangible mode of travel. he's in a vehicle, on the road, while everyone else relies on their own two feet. but there's something of high breeding and quality even in the way he looks.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich -- yes, richer than a king --

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

not only is this man a gentleman, he's rich. (pun!   …get it? if you don't get it, sucks for you. I'm hilarious.) despite this money, richard cory doesn't parade himself; he's quiet, unassuming, polite. and this personableness … personability? hrm … makes even the plebs like him. pulses flutter. we on the pavement watch him go by, all, 'dude, that richard cory's where it's at, man.'

to tell the truth, we all know people like that, right? people who have everything, at least everything we want. money, grace, looks, charm, popularity. it's bad how badly I feel that way sometimes: this feeling that if I wish or want it hard enough, there just isn't a way for me to not get it. because I'm so deserving.
   obviously, though, I'm not. I don't deserve any of what I've been given. why aren't I grateful for what I have? seriously: I have so much.
   mama is always reminding me -- sure, this friend or that friend may not have the same struggles I do. olivia is outgoing, unselfconscious, completely unable to be embarrassed, adorable -- truly, she's the real-life epitome of cynthia kirkpatrick, only without the shallowness. kelsey is beautiful, musical, has a great sense of humor, but is willing to laugh at the dumbest stuff just so you'll feel better about yourself; it's like she thrives on merely being encouraging to the people around her. amanda chopped off her beautiful hair and got a pixie cut -- her gorgeous cheekbones just rolled with it, and I don't know if I have ever met anyone prettier. honest, guys, cross my heart and hope to die. but she doesn't realize  how beautiful she is; and her photorealistic artwork has gotten her paid jobs and a private tutor in san francisco. she's 18.
   you can see how, with friends like this, I'd be jealous all the time. but mama reminds me that olivia may not be shy, kelsey may be able to sing, amanda might be amazing at painting, but they have their own struggles. I see where I struggle -- shyness, vanity, irritation; really, pride -- and how they don't seem to. but that doesn't mean they don't struggle. their areas of difficulty are just different, and different doesn't mean better. it just means different.

thank you for hearing me out.
last verse.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

we don't realize what we have because we're so busy wanting what we don't. our bread isn't enough; we have to have the meat, too.
and the irony is found in that if we had the meat and the bread, we wouldn't necessarily be happy, either.

:: oh gosh, I miss summer ::

at noontime

when the earth is

bright with flaming

heat falling straight down

the cricket sets

up a high-pitched

singing in his wings
- - -

:: greetings to gorgo ::

greetings to gorgo

I salute, madam,

the descendant of 
many great kings

a great many times

- - -

sappho is my new discovery. (that may sound ostentatious. pardon me. I do not even read greek.) don't take this the wrong way, but -- I am in love.

sappho is exquisite. her poetry is pure, shining, intensely lit from somewhere inside; it is raw in its sentiment, clear in its statement, beautiful in its clarity and expression. it's not what she says that is so profound or so breathtaking -- it's how she says it. nor do I mean the words themselves. really it's the picture, the feel, they leave behind.

this one, above, I chose because it was so wry, understated, and sarcastic, but incredibly simple. she is merely greeting a friend (or do I mean "friend"?) -- and insulting her.

the salutation isn't just a salute; she could simply say, "I salute you, madam," and yet she chooses to multiply words. the overabundance of near-flattery is obviously not truthful, and makes this woman -- gorgo -- more an object of mirth than respect. she may indeed be the descendant of royalty, but sappho pointedly references the many as well as the great, rather than any remembered names. too many to name? maybe. more likely too unimportant to remember.

gorgo is not only descended from many kings -- lots and lots, hoo boy -- she is greeted "a great many times." once is obviously not enough for this woman; she must be greeted (read with sarcastic inflection on words in quotes) as "grandly" as her "illustrious predecessors" require.

I can only imagine gorgo's response when she heard first heard this. "seriously, sappho? go die."
…and I can only imagine what sappho might have said to that.

:: longer than always is a long time ::

bobby darin's "more" was going through my head today.

more than the greatest love the world has known

this is the love that I give to you alone

more than the simple words I try to say

I only live to love you more each day

more than you'll ever know

my arms long to hold you so

my life will be in your keeping

waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping

longer than always is a long, long time

but far beyond forever, you'll be mine

I know I never lived before

and my heart is very sure

no one else could love you more 

funny how love is one of those things that all humanity believes, deep down inside, should be eternal. constant love, faithful love, true love that death cannot stop (to paraphrase Our Favorite Movie of All Time) -- love in all cultures and countries and customs is to be sought after and striven for, and the best is eternal. and I mean in all cases of love, not just eros love, but philia love, too. brotherly, sisterly loyalty is hugely valued by all people; constancy in romantic relationships is likewise praised to the skies.

today I finished georgette heyer's black moth. (if any of you have read this, go read it again. if you haven't read it, read it now. warning: tracy will break your heart.) these themes of love really struck me in heyer's book, too: fashionable london doesn't put much of a stress on constancy and faithfulness, although friction in a marriage is scandalous. false honesty and base flattery are the highest virtues one can attain, and yet when true loyalty and true -- I mean true: selfless, mistake-covering -- love appear, you can't but admire the people who show it.

jack is heroic (sympathetic!) throughout, despite his felon status; why? (well, maybe because he's rich and titled and gorgeous, but other than that.) he lost his reputation for his brother: there's loyalty. he falls in love with a fantastic girl, but won't marry her because of his "smirched past": more loyalty, and furthermore, selfless love. 

   when tracy wants diana, and frank asks him "if it's really love he feels," tracy says he doesn't know; "I only know I have felt this passion for four months, and it is stronger now than ever. It sounds like love." but frank cautions him that love is putting the other before yourself -- not what tracy is doing.

"Belike I am [mad]; but I tell you, Tracy, that if your passion is love, 'tis a strange one that puts yourself first. I would not give the snap of a finger for it! You want this girl, not for her own happiness, but for your own pleasure. That is not the love I once told you would save you from yourself. When it comes, you will count yourself as nought; you will realise your own significance, and above all, be ready to make any sacrifice for her sake. Yes, even to the point of losing her!"

this is a slight echo of the scene between jack and diana -- jack basically tells her he loves her too much to ask her to marry him. he makes this sacrifice for her sake, "to the point of losing her." tracy's selfish lust and jack's selfless love are a huge contrast to one another, even more so in the light of tracy's high social status and jack's now lack of one.

there are similar themes going on in richard and lavinia's relationship. lavinia grudgingly admits richard's money was a big factor in her marriage -- selfishness. she tells herself, and truly believes, that she loves him also; but it's a selfish love. richard may love her, but he has to come to terms with the fact that he let jack take the blame for his own wrongdoing (utterly faithless) so that he could marry lavinia (whom his brother was in love with, as well). their selfishness blinds them to everything about the other: their needs, their guilts, even their virtues. 

   richard's idea that he can only have his brother or his wife is the turning point. his determination to be honest about his faults (though he is afraid it will dishonor his wife along with himself) gives him the strength to be honest to her about his feelings: and he gets both -- his brother back, and his wife's love. …and, like I was saying earlier, what can society do but fall in love with faithfulness and loyalty? my point really is, though, that all of them are only happy when they put others first.

what about tracy?

if you're going to read the book -- as if I haven't given too much away already -- stop here because there are going to be more spoilers and you may get kind of tired of my sobby gushing over the conflicted bad guy. because there is always a conflicted bad guy. and I always fall for him. 

tracy is completely selfish and hard and cold and cruel. his description is one of a dangerous, charming "roué and cad," who offers diana food and wine. totally unprepared was she to face a world of men; timid and shy and scared -- I'm drifting. shake me up, judy. 

   tracy's attitude throughout the en. ti. re. book is one of "I am the only person worth doing anything for" and that makes him repulsive. but he wants true love (and that makes him so sympathetic to me that I need to not go off on it *restrains self through masterful force of will*). he treats frank's assertion that 'selflessness is the only way to truly love someone' as a joke; he tries to kidnap diana and ends up endeavoring to kill jack; he kidnaps diana again, and essentially threatens to rape her as a way of forcing her to marry him. he's thoroughly evil. (and I can see that, all right?! sheez, don't judge.) 

   what makes me cry is the very last paragraph of interaction between tracy and frank -- the very last paragraph of the book. 

tracy owns his wrong. when frank told him he needed to be humble, "Humble myself! 'Fore Gad, you must be mad!" was tracy's response. having loved and lost, he realizes he was wrong. and he admits it. to the man who first told him he needed to. if that's not humility…

"I would have married her in all honour --"
"In your own arrogant fashion, Tracy."
"As you say -- in my own arrogant fashion, Frank. If I could go back a year -- but what's the use? I am not whining. Presently I shall return to England and make my bow to -- the Countess of Wyncham. Possibly, I shall not feel one jealous qualm. One never knows. At all events -- I'll make that bow."
"You will?" Frank looked sharply down on him. "Nothing more, Tracy! You do not purpose -- "
"Nothing more. You see, Frank -- I love her."

and that phrase -- "nothing more…. I love her" -- shows all the selflessness that tracy has learned in giving up the woman he wanted. 

how can you not fall in love, yourself? I mean, seriously. all the loyalty and love and fixed relationships: john and dick, dick and lavinia, john and diana. miles and molly, holy cow, how adorable are they?? it's all so wonderfully happy. 

even tracy. how sad and beautiful. 

...I know I never lived before

and my heart is very sure

no one else could love you more

- - -      

:: ode to spring ::

{I think winter is finally ending.
I think the earth is beginning to wake up.
oh glorious!}

the warm sun and the chilly breeze, the smell of grass and growing things.
the birds singing outside my window in the morning.
the blue sky.
the sudden rain showers and the little leftover puddles.
the daffodils.
the budding trees.
the feeling that something is just around the corner.

spring.
no more snow.
no more coats and mittens.
no defrosting the car windshield or having to shovel the drive before work in the morning.
(thank heavens.)
no more freezing, gray days.

color.
warmth.
and
     
        the
       
             goat-footed

balloonMan         whistles
far
and
wee

:)

:: in just-spring ::

it isn't really just-spring. we got snow sunday night -- about five inches of it. (in march, people!) spring has got to be, as frog and toad would put it, just around the corner.

I have read 'call of the wild' (poem, not book) about four times already this week. robert service is heartbreaking.

when will the snow go away? when will I see the sun again? I've got to go. I've got to go somewhere. it's been too long since I've been on a road trip or moved or done anything. I get this wanderlust every year, a cross between cabin fever and adolescent dreams of adventure, but it hurts more this year than ever before -- maybe because winter this year has lasted from about november until march, and I'm sick of the cold and the everlasting whiteness of everything.

oh my heart…

- - -

Let us probe the wild places, let us see what luck betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling… let us go.