Apr. 08, 2003 - 5:56 p.m.
Dear Meghan:
Everything from breath to the ocean tides changes, so it is not necessarily a bad thing you’re your version of low tide would leave you feeling ordinary, especially considering how fascinating you are at high tide. Imagine if being ordinary WAS your high tide! Then maybe you’d be more like your pal Melissa (that sounds like a slam, and maybe it is…I don’t really know!). But more on that later. I have those abyss dips myself, with the last one being slightly after we started corresponding. Recollection brings to mind one particularly dour piece about the cold wind of Saturday, or some other poetically incorrect phraseology.
Speaking of the correspondence, if your bout with the Ordinaries persists, I would recommend some reading. Reading of what, you ask? Why, your older letters to me, of course. Sometimes, nothing dilutes an ‘ordinary’ funk more than reading some of your own words. Needless to say, you are far, far from ordinary.
Poetically incorrect… hmm. If Bill Maher’s show wasn’t off the air, I might write a sketch about that. Yeats and Browning go toe-to-toe on the meaning of springtime and love…tonight! As for ‘Fear Factor’, I must admit I would have never guessed that you would mention that television program in our letters. Color me…….shocked!
Melissa, Courtney and Krissy: an interesting, if dangerously theatrical, trio. I would not fault them their flair for the dramatic, as it is a natural phase for most people. It is only fun, though, as long as you deny you’re doing it – it’s not nearly as dramatic when you can admit to yourself what you’re up to. In the interest of honesty, I must admit that I enjoyed my share of drama well into my 20s. I was just getting started, really, when I entered college. Drama was a fast track to popularity, in a way. Being reasonably insecure at the time, I leapt at it with vim and vigor and vinegar – to this day, I’m still shocked I got a Best Actor Award for my performance in “Equus” but not for my performance as a freshman…
It was only when the consequences and ramifications started making themselves hideously known to me on a daily basis that I decided to evacuate that doomed shuttle of action. Though I would not proclaim myself drama-free these days, I tend to route it into songs and sketches. Also, there is at least a handful of people that were subject to my egocentric whim that I come across (or come close to coming across) in the Chicago theater community. Every time I (nearly) see them, I cringe. I was that much of a prick and I have no defense.
I am slightly surprised that you did not inject your opinion when the grrrrrrrrrls were talking about their boyzzzzzzzzzz. You must have been drowning a bit (and, as you might agree, it is difficult to converse while fighting for life) when their eyes focused on you.
As for your own potential guy pal, Robbie, I wouldn’t kick yourself too hard if I were you. As intimated above, my half of the species is notoriously slow at learning how not to be a twit. I would even suggest that if you and I were of the same demographic, we would no doubt clash like you and Robbie do (‘clash’ sounds a bit too dramatic, but I trust you understand what I mean). Having said that, one principle difference I would point out is, even then, I had more of a proclivity for Cabernet Sauvignon than worms.
Colors, colors. Are we in agreement on the beginning (the color effect caused by the watercolor/drain bit) and the ending (a unifying event that alters the colors of everyone a bit)? If so, I’d be quite game to start work on it. I wonder about our point of view: are we detached observers (or a single detached observer) or active participant(s) in the community? Which way would you prefer?
With scrubbing bubbles,
Vincent
what they said - what they will say
