magical & transatlantical

the whole room was full of Classics wlwTM and we Absolutely Could Not Handle This Like Even a Little Bit. I got so distracted thinking about her during my workout today that I accidentally did 15 more jumping jacks than I was supposed to, which I think is the gayest sentence I’ve ever written.

how do I describe the way she speaks? it’s this very floaty, dignified, vaguely curious, uncompelled, but very intentional style of diction, like if you met god at a garden party and she handed you a pitcher of cream and asked you why you think you should get into heaven. I wrote down the phrase “Your ridiculous little glasslike soul” and I don’t remember in what context she said it, but THAT’S the vibe.

she is screamingly funny but relentlessly deadpan. “You know Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for—” she pulls down her glasses and looks at us, like a librarian who moonlights writing erotica – “sodomy.” She had us do an “interactive portion” during one of her poems, instructing the right side of the audience: “Your part is simply the word Deciduous? With a question mark at the end.”

She has flawless comedic timing, and she does not use filler words. Remember this line from Elektra? it sums up her sense of humor PERFECTLY:

She spices up her wit by dropping in the occasional mind-blowing quote like “Tears are all about the weeper, aren’t they?” and “Roses and hurricanes are too much as they are to be anything else, to be damaged by metaphor.” and “Do I frighten people, saying there’s no back wall? Nothing between you and your heart of darkness?”

like. she is an incredible writer and I’m not about to denigrate her translations by saying she didn’t put work into them, but I honest to god think that is just How This Woman’s Mind Works. she is on “not to me, not if it’s you” and “someone will remember us I say even in another time” levels of galaxy brain wordcraft, but IN REAL LIFE.

I came up to her after the reading and asked her to sign my Bacchae copy. I did not say much to her besides that I was a fan, because I got the sense that if I formed a complete sentence in her presence she would see directly through me and reach into my body and swallow my entire ribcage like a snake.

darcy doesn’t sing a single note even during conversations where everyone else is singing at him that is until the argument following his first attempt at proposing to lizzy where you can see his restraint fall away

his first big solo is the letter he writes her

gelsey bell is mary and the unofficial narrator and she sits down at her piano to describe whats going on but before she can ever reveal her feelings on the matter, starting with that gelsey bell scream, mr bennet comes over and does the whole ‘that’s nice dear but give someone else a turn’

mr wickham has this huge ballad about how darcy ruined his life and its super melodramatic and touching

mr collins proposal to lizzy is an absolute bop that he gets so into he forgets for a moment what he’s doing he’s just owning the stage

wickham has a song where he’s trying to seduce lydia but she’s not even listening she’s just monologuing about how excited she is to get laid

during darcy’s second proposal he keeps hesitating waiting for lizzy to interrupt him like she has done every time before but she doesn’t say anything until he’s finished

at the end mary sits down at the piano and right where she’d usually be interrupted, kitty joins her and harmonises

 jane and bingley have the adorable upbeat romantic duet which is just them being super polite like ‘oh so nice to have you here’ ‘so nice to be here’ interspersed with their inner monologue which is just them being like fucking jesus I’m so in love

the bingley sisters probably have a really cool mean solo

lady catherine has this terrifying disney villain song in the garden

secretly tenderhearted heroine who puts on a chilly facade because of her previous Disappointments: oh well. i know it's silly to dream, because.... because holiday magic isn't... real

holiday magic, bolting upright in rage: the FUCK i AIN'T

secretly tenderhearted heroine who used to love christmas but hasn't been back to the farmhouse for years: i just don't have time to fall in love, especially not... at this time of year...

governess for an intelligent child in an old, decaying mansion in the english/scottish countryside (MAYBE american, but it has to be a part of the country where it rains a lot) (note: the house must host at LEAST one ghost) (second note: if the child’s parent is single, good-looking, brooding, moody, and compatible with my sexual orientation, even better)

handmaiden for the Lady Of the House in a mansion, castle, or sprawling country estate (note: the Lady Of the House must avoid questions, give vague answers about her history, have a fondness for red wine, and avoid venturing outside during daylight hours. a fondness for masquerade balls is not required but HIGHLY preferred)

personal tutor for the Young Lady Of the House whose father will not allow her to see any men, but feels he can trust me, another young woman, to keep his daughter out of trouble (note: in this scenario i can play piano so we can play together and “accidentally” brush hands)

assistant to a private investigator in a city where it always rains and always seems to be night, with vaguely humanoid clientele (note: the investigator must wear a long, black coat. after i’ve solved a case all my own – probably around book 4 or 5 – i get one too.)