Dec
20

Q&A?

What to write, what to write. I started a post on Saturday, and one on Sunday, and one yesterday, and yet here I am—still casting about for something to say.

Late Saturday night I returned from dinner with a friend and thought about writing something about the evening. We had seen some alarmingly attired women at the restaurant, one of whom seemed to be attempting to turn herself into an end table by resting her elbows on the bar whilst thrusting her ample bottom into the room behind her. It was a mark of the demure and ladylike natures of my dinner companion and myself that we managed to restrain ourselves from resting our drinks upon her back-end.
Surely I could make something of that, I thought. I could shape some sort of analogy, whereby the woman’s bottom is a symbol of America, and the way we, as a country, thrust ourselves into the face of the international community.
No? Well perhaps just a description of the evening, then.
I sat down at my computer, opened up a new post template, and fidgeted for a moment or two before I heard a tiny voice, calling to me. It was the voice of an unread book, and I am helpless before it: I closed my laptop and retrieved the volume from my handbag. It was nearing midnight, after all, and a girl has to read.

Sunday evening, reflecting on my uncommonly delightful weekend, I contemplated another entry. The Nearly and I had spent most of Sunday afternoon in bed, doing the things that we do, and then lay there reading side-by-side for most of the evening. At one point I got up to make some hot chocolate with brandy, and when I came back to bed and opened my book, the Nearly put his down and said
“We are just like the grandparents in Willy Wonka.”
And we were. Only more attractive. But I couldn’t think of a way to make a post out of having an uncommonly delightful weekend, especially not after I finished drinking my hot chocolate with brandy.

Monday morning I saw that roo had responded to my meme tag. Her last list was the following:

“Seven People I’m Curious About
1. Socrates
2. Leonardo DaVinci
3. Dave McKean
4. Joseph Campbell
5. Eleanor of Aquitaine
6. Barbara Ehrenreich
7. George Clooney
We’ll see if any of these people (those numbering among the living, at least) respond to my tag.”

So I thought I would write a post responding, as Eleanor of Aquitaine:

Seven things to do before I die (not in order of priority):
1. Launch second crusade
2. Recapture county of Odessa
3. Sleep with Count of Anjou
4. Poison husband’s whore mistress, Rosamund
5. Rule England as regent
6. Raise nine children
7. Sleep with uncle

Seven things that attract me to my spouse (in random order):
1. King of England
2. Better lover than ex-husband, Louis VII
3. Very fertile
4. Ambitious
5. Looks good in tights
6. Passionate
7. Instituted practice of Trial by Jury

But I was too tired to do it properly.

And so here I am, on Tuesday afternoon, right back where I started.
What to write, what to write.

I am appealing to you, my hundreds dozens tens of readers–isn’t there something you would like to know about me? A question you would like me to answer? A story you would like me to tell? Surely there must be something.
I will get you started by revealing an embarrassing fact about myself: Last night, during a certain movie, I sobbed harder than I have ever sobbed at any other film, so touched was I by the pathos of a scene involving gunfire and a stuffed elephant. I believe this was only the 3rd movie to make me cry, ever.
The movie that moved me to tears?
Bad Santa.

There, you see? I’ll tell you anything! Ask away!

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |