It's been a while.

I'm all right, physically, though my womb would beg to differ, but since I'm not... well I am, but ahem... bleeding from any unnatural wounds and I am breathing, I'm all right.

I feel the need to write tonight. Long, rambling and fanciful. Turn away now, if you wanted to know what's happened in Brisbane. I won't say.

I watched The Village tonight, and it's made me think. Joaquin Phoenix has awful eyebrows, but that's beside the point.

How many times have I dreamed of just going into hiding, away from the world, delving into a place where I could recreate a bit of the past? Not my past, no, but the past of people who had higher moral standards, who spoke politely, who did not care to fill their environment with pollution. I've wanted to find a place where it was okay to wear long, full skirts and the elder ladies would teach the young ones how to cook, sew and dance traditional dances, where, if two people fell in love, they would not jump straight into bed and spend ten minutes of screen time humping and slobbering over each other.

I've been told I was born centuries too late, and born a continent too far.

A suitor would have to come and knock on my door. Then, while I perched primly at the edge of my seat, my father would go and open it. The suitor would whip his hat off his head and bow, and say that he's come to visit me, if it was all right with my father. My father would give me a look, and I would return it with a pleading one, and my father would tell my suitor that we could only talk for half an hour, and then he would have to take his leave.

And oh, how our courtship would be; blushing and whispering in little corners hidden by trees. And if he asked for my hand!

I'm unrealistic, I'm far too much of a dreamer, but if the world returned to that period of time, I would be happy.

< bass | treble >

- - 2006-05-29
- - 2006-05-01
on The Ineffable - 2006-03-27
on being a matyr - 2006-03-23
- - 2006-03-17