exit, pursued by a bear
Monday 9 March 2009 | 7 cookies in the jar
So it has come to our attention that pretty much nothing has been coming to our attention for quite some time now. Call it spring fever; call it spring break; call it scapular dyskinesia with a pinched radial nerve; call it a ten-day course of prednisone and twice-a-week physical therapy—call it what you will, or call it as you like it, or just call it (as in, time of death): this here blog-shaped-object has been of late sore neglected.
Here 48 hours passed. Here I lost a long and unbelievably complicated blogpost of many tens of thousands of words, with pictures and downloadable PDFs, which I did not compose in a text editor though I invariably do so. Here I’m throwing up now. When I am done hysterically sobbing I will rewrite the post. Which was all about me and the Brujo and disability and writing and cats and teaching and sex and had long quotations from Virginia Woolf and a thrilling story about being chased by Africanized bees, and mostly explained why I had not been writing for nearly a month. Here I exit, pursued by bear.
7 cookies in the jar
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Forgive, but isn’t it “Exit”, there being but one of Antigonus?
And am I not doing that irritating piece of rhetoric where I phrase the complaint as a question, knowing damn-well the answer?
I am, aren’t I?
Oh what was I thinking? That no one else who reads this blog did the Shakespeare paper under Juliet?!
For I knew it was “exit,” but had remembered it for years as “exeunt,” which sounds so much grander; and then even when I looked it up prior to titling the post, I thought slyly to myself, But no one will ever notice….
BUSTED.
Ah, well. I don’t get to use this part of my brain very often (the part that remembers stage directions from late S’peare Romances) so it welcomed its little day out really!
Lots of people of course think that “exeunt” is an old form of “exit” rather than the plural form that it is. But I despise those people, and shun their company.
In my experience, you can blame it on the prednisone — wouldn’t it be more appropriate if they called it prednizone? My father once dreamt that he was inside a strawberry while taking that stuff. We talk about it to this day.
Every now and then, thou needeth a break from the blog.
@arw: INSIDE A STRAWBERRY ZOMG priceless. Like Mandarin, under the drowsy influence of a similar thing once, telling me about skyscrapers knitted out of wool. And going online and buying lunar calendars (plural) from Australia. Which we also still talk about to this day.
@lise: Whenever I can bring myself to speak to such people at all, I inform them that “exeunt omnes” is, in their circumstance, a helpful mnemonic. DAMN it feels good to be a gangsta!
Sounds like a Gregorian chant: exeunt omnes/rectus abdominus….
So maybe the prednizone is actually a place where people go to expand the mind. I used to travel there during childhood asthma attacks. Alas, they seem far behind me now, and I may never enter the prednizone again (Or so I hope).