I often fantasize about living in eras that are not my own. I have a bordering-on-obsession obsession with the Regency period, (obviously, I'm not alone here) having read almost every Austen novel and seen every adapted-for BBC movie. (Pride & Prejudice with Colin "Darcy" Firth? Awesome.) Today, more than most days, I want to be there.
Fuck cell phones, fuck TVs, fuck IM, fuck computers, fuck answering machines and their evil stepsister voicemail. Fuck e-mail, fuck snail mail (I'll take mine on horseback, thank you), fuck checkout lines, fuck coke lines, fuck bylines. FUCK celebrities, fuck media, fuck car "collisions" (since "accident" implies guilt). Fuck higher learning, fuck airports, fuck taxis, fuck work-related functions. Fuck PC, fuck democracy, fuck peace (thanks, MJ). Fuck trannies, fuck bars, fuck pampered dogs. Eh, fuck it.
Believe it or not, I'm not really in a bad mood. I'm just tired of dealing with all the things that get in the way of my thinking. I need a nice, quiet place to sit, read, crochet, maybe even paint a fucking watercolor. (Those of you who know me, know how very far-fetched this is. I'm allowed to be a dichotomy, dammit.) I need to feel like I'm hearing my inner voice that is only mine, not all the white noise and static of the things we are all exposed to every day. I mean, can I really, please, someone, get through one day without seeing a single ad? No, I cannot. And they won't rest until they acquire the adspace on the backs of my fucking eyelids.
I want to wear heavy dresses that drag the dust. I want to challenge the Regency ideal of feminism. I want to worry about my chances for a financially advantageous marriage. I want to ride horses into a hunt. I want to be treated as a delicate flower. I want to sleep with hot stones in my bed on cold nights. I want to laze away my days in boring idleness.
Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. Maybe I don't want Jane Austen to adopt me. Maybe I want to be bare-breasted, galloping into battle beside Boudicca, slaughtering Romans and feeling the spatter of warm blood on my body. Yeah, that's better.Fuck Jane Austen: Boudicca! ADOPT ME!!!
Oh hells yes on so very many different levels.
ReplyDeleteI'm not exactly of the "athletic" pursuasion so I feel riding into battle probably wouldn't be for me but I'd love nothing more than to spend my entire day reading or doing needlepoint and fretting about finding an eligable man.
Actually, come to think of it that's pretty much how I spend my weekends anyway...
Being nobility in Pre-Bolshevik Russia would be pretty awesome also.
Dude, Pre-Bolshevik Russia=rockin good time. Also, what I like to call the "Samurai Era" of Japan. That would be great too. I would secretly convince some worthy samurai to teach me to use the katana, then i would go about the countryside, dressed as a man, protecting innocent farmers from dangerous, thieving gangs. :) Where's my time machine???
ReplyDeleteWhen you find it drop me off in Sparta wouldya?
ReplyDeleteI would join you two, but I cannot live in any time period where bathing s frowned upon and there is no toliet paper. I needs me a proper bathroom!
ReplyDeletealex: Sparta, on the way to old Japan: check.
ReplyDeletevermillion: i'm bringing the wet wipes. wanna case?
Ooh lookie. You've gone mental.
ReplyDeleteHow fun!
Amen, sistah;)
ReplyDeleteI vote for being part of an ancient nomadic tribe, moving with the wild game and the seasons, being a part of a ritualistic society that honors the land and the people, feeling CONNECTED... yeah...
ok, so to recap:
ReplyDeleteAlex: Sparta
Vermillion: Pussyville
Boo: Empirical Japan
TK: Superiority Complex
Sinker Squid: Modern-day Cambodia
awesome! what a fun trip we are going to have, y'all!!
Oh so just because I don't want to get poison ivy in an uncomfortable place, and I would like to be able to kiss a woman without her having to eat apples stuffed with cloves (its true!), that makes me a pussy?
ReplyDeleteFine. 'Bout the closest I am gonna get to any at this rate.
Oh, and when you have to use knotted ropes or tree bark or whatever, don't come running to me!
ReplyDelete*runs off crying*
Apples and cloves and poison ivy, oh my!
ReplyDeleteYou're weird. But hilarious.