(--and I got dibs on that for a song title, capisce?
Okay, I'm planning to go up to Ren Faire for the (counts on fingers) I think sixth
time August 21st, with a bunch of pals from the local chapter of ShadowLore (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShadowLore_Indiana-Illinois
Must alter my doublet...I was watching Shakespeare in Love
tonight, and my attire as it stands needs to be updated to the casual Elizabethan rather than remaining half in the rather rococo Italian Renaissance. Which means, turn under the bottom skirts and tag it, rearrange the buttons closer and smaller, and probably curtail the loft on the shoulder-rims, especially if I plan to bring a cloak atall, which I ought to in order to match my crappy old crushable black slouch hat, which still looks a helluva lot better than my black suede beret, even if it does
have the ultra-long pheasant's feather I yoinked from that horrid eggplant-purple suede Robin Hood hat I bought last time at Faire...sorry, it was a cheapo stall knockoff and looked worse than a short-order cook's paper hat, imho. And I don't care if it (the black crushable-bendable) looks not quite natty enough for Court, 'cause I ain't in
Court! Nor am I a vendor...I am of no Guild, and therefore I may in my own personal wardrobe subtly thumb my nose at the costume Nazis, altho' I may pander to them for others' sake.
My knee-high black suede moccasin-boots, for example...tactfully bereft of their fringes, they might at worst mark me as some itinerant pirate from the New World...
Point of historical accuracy, though--by the time I go to Faire, I shall have my ear pierced in customary gentleman's fashion, so that at least is quite i' the order of the day. And my hair longer.
Hah...yeah, I'm on a roll (role? /:)...) all right...I was just thinking tonight, watching the movie, seeing them rehearse their lines and business and all, how much the faculties of memory and imagination have degraded over time, as data has become more permanent and endlessly retrievable with so little effort. Admittedly, we are talking of "professional" players, who might be supposed to have those gifts in larger measure to play their parts--but no, in general, people have let their imaginations be more dictated-to than stimulated-within by those things they imbibe via their senses, not to mention their capacities for mental recall being taken up much more with matters of worldly concern, the exacting financial and legal details and passwords and policies and all sorts of internal paperwork. I was shocked (shocked!) in sophomore-year Honors English, to realize how few of my classmates knew how to read dramatically--and from Cyrano de Bergerac
, no less...!
I asked Amber if she'd gotten the latest Harry Potter book, supposing that a girl hooked on Rupert Grint (who plays Ron Weasley in the movies) just might be interested in seeing what lies ahead to be filmed of him...and she said she doesn't like to read. "That's it, we're through!" I said, joking only by a fraction--I just can't continue to associate with people who "don't read"...who blather (par l'example
) about arcane gaming/film terminology (Lycans, anyone? *snicker*) or horror/fantasy characters as if they were "real" as given, without having read anything of either original novels nor lore...you know what I'm talking about, people...*lowering glare*
*Sigh* Yeah, I'm an intellectual...I mean, my idea of a fully convivial evening with friends necessarily involves some sort of mental/artistic activity, whether it's watching and critiquing movies, reading plays or poems or stories aloud, deepdark cultural/philosophical discussion, or delving through the piles of classical/opera/Broadway music in the livingroom. Or psychical explorations, but those I shall not detail at the moment here--suffice it to say, they are not fit endeavours for the shallow nor wit-less...
Ah, go on, say it...'old souls' never do quite belong in their own times, do they?--or any
time? All we can do is make use of where we happen to land, and try to make it work out for the best. With a shiteload of self-research, admittedly...but what do we think Jesus was really
doing all those years before he started "working"?
Ah, there's a thought...