O amante smunta di morti

[sovay]

Dear brain. What is is about listening to Puccini's Turandot (1957, Maria Callas; Elizabeth Schwartzkopf; Eugenio Fernandi) and reading John Le Carré's The Perfect Spy before bed that leads you to dream about blond-haired boy whores and then bringing one of them to the tombs of my ancestors so that he (who was, really, only male about half the time) can stab with a rapier down into one of the unmarked graves? You do know that I don't have an ancestral cemetery? And that even if I did, I've kind of assumed it wouldn't produce malignant possessing spirits? I mean, I could be sympathetically biased, but still—and do I look like I have the money for a string of boy whores? No, I don't get it either. I'm going back to Lucan now. It's safer.

Comments

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Agreed. But I'll take just hearing about sovay's--her depictions are better than my dreams ever could be anyway.

And as farwing says too--thanks for making me smile.

[sovay]

her depictions are better than my dreams ever could be anyway.

I don't believe that. Write me something with boy whores and graves!

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

You mean right now? Instead of all the chores I have to do? Well, if it's a command, I guess I must. :)

[sovay]

Instead of all the chores I have to do?

Chores, boy whores; chores, boy whores . . . It's a tough call, isn't it? ; )