lunedì, agosto 14, 2006

I'm free to do what I want

The F-man arrives tomorrow - still seems like an excruciatingly long time until he gets here, but some perspective is entering the situation as I realize how little time I have left to do the things I want to have done before he gets here. So far I have:

1. Cleaned the apartment
2. Made and frozen the perfect meat sauce
3. Made a tin of chocolate-covered halva
4. Started another tin of random and delicious sweets
5. Actually, just done a fuckload of cooking
6. Got a haircut
7. Started flavouring myself pineapple

I must still:

1. Depilitate
2. Clear the rubbish off my rooftop
3. Finish the random and delicious sweet-tin
4. Make reefer butter
5. Repair the flat on the Guest Bicycle

Errrrrm . . . I think that's all. What's my point, you ask? My point is Milan Kundera is a bastard. When I was twelve I read The Book of Laughter and Forgetting and I can't think of a better argument for keeping grown-up books away from moron kids. The problem is you believe things when you're that age. And he stated ever so categorically in that book, I'm pretty sure, that any breakage of patterns from the honeymoon phase of the relationship represents an emotional betrayal so one should be ever so careful not to overstretch oneself during the honeymoon phase.

This has not been borne out in my experience, wherein my men and I have all operated on the basis of "I'm in an indulgent mood so enjoy it while you can" that had very little to do with the honeymoon status of whatever anyways . . . besides, if Figaro's arrival marks the beginning of another honeymoon it'll be our fifth or something. So after fifteen years of always having Milan Kundera squatting on my brain like a big frowny misogynist frog, telling me not to flavour myself pineapple for special occasions or else my relationships will end as soon as I stop, I'm going to say as categorically as he,

Fuck off, Milan Kundera. Fuck off like Ayn Rand. Philosophical novels are the fucking musical parodies of the literary world and that's what you write. The problem is you write them so much prettier than most other authors of philosophical novels, which just makes the manipulation of characters who should be living and breathing their own lives through the pages of your books and who you instead turn into laboured mouthpeices of your own gloomy gloomsalotism all the more perverse.

12 commenti:

calisaurus ha detto...

Cooking and cleaning? How domestic of you! I hope sweet Galexie won't mind a male hanging about.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

I know, eh? The cleaning won't last. I like cooking always, though.

Galexie was happy with him last time he was here. At least I think she was because she got all pissy when he left. We'll see how they deal with co-habitation.

Melbine ha detto...

Gloomsalotism eh? You go ahead and flavour yourself pineapple!

I like your new picture by the way.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Thanks Mel! It's Judith with the head of Holofernes by Someone Allori.

Miss Daiquiri ha detto...

Right, not totally sure how to ask this in public whilst sober... but when you say flavouring yourself pineapple do you mean in a body lotion sense or in 'bits likely to come into contact with the mouth of F' sense. If the latter, then HOW?

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

The second one, and to do so one must drink a couple of litres of pineapple juice every day for three or four days. I like pineapple juice, but that gets gross. I've heard you can do it with mint tisanes, too, but I like pineapple juice better than mint tisane.

Masonic Boom ha detto...

It happens with curry, too. But I think I like eating curry more than drinking loads of pineapple juice.

Miss Daiquiri ha detto...

Sometimes I feel so innocent...

Melbine ha detto...

Me too Anna, me too...

We totally studied that picture in 3rd year Mistress! Well, you didn't, but those of us lucky enough to have Hernandez did. Mmm. Hernandez.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Curry, hmm? Maybe I'll try that next. F has a sweet tooth, though.

I'm as innocent as the driven snow, myself. But I picked up fast habits in France.

Mel, I did have Hernandez, but in second year when I worked ahead a little. We didn't do that picture though. Maybe the way those retards in the year above us fussed over everything and were complete moron bastards slowed down the class. Jeebus. Hernandez. Hernaaaaandez. He was wonderful. Thinking about him still makes me smile.

Jiri ha detto...

You have a Guest Bicycle? That's awesome!

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Well, now I guess it'll be the Boy Bicycle and guests will have to ride on our handlebars. The public transport is so rubbish here, Jiri, for me it's kinda important.