Monday, 9 November 2009

ranty and raunchy

Nobody writes their "What the fuck am I doing in academia?" posts anymore. No, I do not mean the good Elendil. He has figured it all out after OD-ing on coffee, the tall twit. I mean everybody.

Really, do I care if great writers screw up their lives of icy intellectualism by wanting to fuck a fourteen year ole Pole very very badly? He wanted a good fuck, he was gay, and he didn't know it. So he realizes his sexuality in shabby old Venice. HELLO! EVERYBODY KNOWS VENICE IS A CITY OF DEATH! Think of all that stagnant water in the canals and the ensuing mosquitoes. Aaaargh. If he didn't die of his erection he would have died of malaria! Duh!

Oh Mann. Ah Mann. Woe Mann.


Yes, yes, yes. I know, I know. I hate horndogs but clever horndogs are the limit! That raunchy old man, such depraved lust! A fourteen year old boy! sigh Even sixteen would have been tolerable...this story depresses me more than The Bell Jar. I do not wish to watch Visconti's film because the man is very ugly and the boy is very pretty. Now psychoanalyze me, I don't care. Your Eros may just be my Thanatos, huh!

6 comments:

Anurima. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jadis said...

That Eros SHALL be your Thanatos, my friend...


while me, I'm content with finding MY Thanatos inside The Bell Jar with its distorted dimensions, as I well SHALL. :(





sigh. this course. sighh.

Anurima. said...

I shall write one soon. I'm convinced now that I would have fared better studying Botany or Zoology, or even Geology. Damn! Architecture even. Why, I love architecture and those sexy little models they make. WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

take me far/
bell-jar/
screw me right/
make me fight/
yes, my venice/
I'll give you my penis(e) ?
cover my shamed pole/
in your deathly stole/
true knowledge i seek/
even at my libidinous peak/
even if my age/
is too tender for damage/
bite me fair/
pull my hair/
tie me to a chair/
and make me bare...

to an intelligent death i will stand/
so long as my shame is contained in this band/
so listen, silly Mann, and listen good too/
I'lll no longer be a party to your lustful premise/
and if you give me an unfit demise/
i'll rather court death by ingesting my poo.

Elendil said...

I have changed my mind about Plath. She is a conceited, masochistic woman. She's so high on her suffering its disgusting. And the self obsession is revolting. Bell Jar was one of the most limited texts I've read.

Madhuri said...

This story simply provokes judgement dont it :)... Well life happens, often not well, just flow with it and ignore the discordant parts, they are part of a bigger puzzle, they will fit someday