On the way to and from our Thanksgiving in Hurricane, my sister and I listened to the soundtrack of Wicked (a new Broadway musical bigger than indoor plumbing) which claims to offer, and which I choose to believe offers, the true story of the witches of Oz. Basically the Wicked Witch of the West was framed, as well as being (1) an outcast because she was green and (2) the best friend and college roommate of Glinda the Good. I'd recommend the music to anyone who can stomach this type of musical offering--but there I go. I need to repress my tendency to review things and get to the point. The point being. . . I like labels. I keep saying this. I like my compartments. (This stemming from a trip to Wales in which I was dubbed "Galadriel-esque" while my best friends were given the infinitely more easily explained "cute" and "quixotic." Which is a very good word.) And yet at the same time I resist my compartments. I mean, look at what happened to Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West). She was never really wicked, just someone with incredibly bad luck. Or something like.
Anyway, my point is this. I like you--you being most people when they are not (1) driving or (2) standing in some sticky sweet reunion in the middle of a narrow hallway. If my tendency to label offends, just write me off as that self-righteous editorgirl who doesn't know what she's talking about. In the meantime, I'm going to continue referring to the sophisticate, the genius, and good ol' Fido.
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3 comments:
Did I miss something? Who's Fido? One of the aprilites is your dog? And I don't mean that in a cool (white) hip-hop wanna be way.
miss k
i just want it known that fido knows how to bite, and easygoing as he is, one day he might muster up some self respect and assert himself.
with that said.
bark bark
Is it true? Is it really you? I hardly recognize you now that you've been to the groomers. Snazzy.
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