Pride and Prejudice (and Snobbery) by Austen - A
You know, if I were to be honest with myself (and the rest of the world) I would admit that I have at times had "issues" with the English. I think the main reason has to do with snobbery. I hate it. I am a snob about snobs, I guess. Maybe it's because snobbery is so connected to class. Maybe it's because snobbery has to do with being cruel to usually innocent people (another thing I have trouble accepting). Maybe because snobs just fucking suck. Anyway, I've never been a big fan of English lit, especially since anything written before 1930 seems to talk about the rich rich English with their pretty dresses and horse carriages and fine ways. *puke* I finally read Austen's Persuasion several months back, and though I didn't think it was a work of staggering genius, did find it entertaining.
Of course, Austen pokes fun at snobs. I had a debate with an English friend whether she is playfully poking fun or more subtly calling the upper class a bunch of self-obsessed assholes (I leant toward the latter argument). So, anyway, I just recently picked up and finished Pride and Prejudice and found that I really loved it.
Maybe that will make some people groan, but it's true. Maybe it has something to do with the idiotic romantic in me I keep imagining long dead, or maybe it's the old cliche that all women envision themselves as Elizabeth (though don't we all envision ourselves as the main characters in MOST books!?). And sure, you could see the eventual outcome of the book by about page six, but still, it was a winnner with me. Maybe because it's a fun blend of intense romance, like all her books, while REALLY taking a look at snobbery, cruelty, contradictions, selfishness, and an array of other ridiculous things in society at that time.
One thing I find very interesting, is that in Sense and Sensibility (of which I've only seen the movie, not read the book), the wild, outspoken, free-spirited girl is, though punished cruelly for her actions, portrayed in the end as being a very positive thing. That it is the free spirit that is the true soul, who is free of all these idiotic pretentions and self and society-inflicted misery. And yet, in Pride and Prejudice, it is the sister with these same free-spirited characteristics who is potrayed as close to evil as one can get. She's improper, she's outspoken, she's without shame, she's hurt her family's reputation, she's a fucking idiot! She should just marry the asshole everyone hates and go on with what everyone is assured of as a miserable married life in order to salvage a shred of her family's dignity.
I'm not interested in becoming a total Austenphile now and delving into what I am sure are tomes on the subject of her and her books. Instead, I've ordered the BBC Pride and Prejudice DVD to be RUSHED to me through the mail! How else to top off a great book than watching the stiff and strangely attractive Colin Firth mumble on the screen! *flutter*
Thursday, August 28, 2003
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
DISROBED
I was having one of those days where you have time off, and really want to use it well, but your original plans fall through so you’re left scrambling to make something significant of what’s left of the day. I finally decided to ride on over to the “Temple of the Golden Mount.” This mouthful of a temple has always been a favorite of mine. You climb it slowly through a series of steps that are only comfortable for geishas or tightly-constricted monks. It’s like riding a stairmaster to top of a mountain. Along the way, as you encircle it, are various ancient trees, statues, and other Buddhist images and artifacts. This is about the fifth time I have come here, but it certainly was the most interesting.
I got there right about 5:30pm, and I knew it might be closing just about now. So, as I was hurrying up the tiny stairs, I came upon a figure on the side. There were some cement benches and some trees. I saw a Thai man who was dressed only in what could be described as a giant loincloth/diaper (kind of what you’d see strapped to a sumo wrestler). He was making these movements back and forth..back and forth..and I was slow to understand what was going on. “What is he doing….is he exercising….that…doesn’t….look quite right. Wait a minute, is that a PENIS I see? Holy shit!” It seems the young man was doing his very best to get it on with a cement bench. During this whole time I didn’t break my stride up the stairs, but was completely stunned. I’ve never seen anything like this in Thailand before. I kept walking as if all was normal.
Yet, it was not over, those thankfully less dramatic. Only about 15 feet from Mr. Eager Beaver was another man, passed out on the path to my left, in a classic too-much-Thai-whisky pose. You’d expect an empty bottle in his hand, with the last few drops slowly seeping out to the ground. But no! In this man’s outstretched hand was a slightly-mangled box of….Chiclets! I kid you not! It was a box of gum! If you saw everything save his hand, you would swear the guy was passed out from booze. Maybe he tried to freshen his breath at the last minute before going unconscious.
And what is strange about all of this is that it is a temple, a very important one that tourists flock to, heaving themselves slowly up the baby steps, and stopping along the way to catch their breath or ring a giant bell of which they have no comprehension of its significance. I’ve never seen such things at a temple before, which would be comparable to a man rubbing up to a statue of Mary in a catholic church.
Finally, I reached the top, after being warned by each descending tourist that the roof was closed. This was disappointing since the roof is, of course, the whole point of climbing this stairway to heaven. On the roof, next to the giant golden stupa, you have a 360 degree view of Bangkok which gives the city a kind of beauty and dignity impossible to see in daylight.
At the top, the doors were closed, but a few people were hanging out on the steps, taking in the view and enjoying the strong and cool winds that blow at that height. Standing there was the obligatory monk, looking a little nervous and eager at the same time. There were also the people taking care of the temple (those who locked the doors and sold tourists water, soda, and cheap Buddha images), who were looking impatient with the hangers-on.
It wasn’t long before the monk had struck up a conversation with me, as well as a good-looking young Thai man who worked there. I was surprised to be attracted to the Thai man since it’s a pretty rare thing for me. It’s difficult to feel attraction to someone who clocks you in the femininity department. This guy had enough masculinity (hair on his legs, hooray!) to not make me feel like a Nordic giant, and he spoke English well, another rarity. I felt myself torn between the over-eager monk who was obviously trying to establish a friendship in order to “practice his English” as he said, and the cute guy who had an interesting story. The cute guy had just recently “disrobed” from the monkhood which was hinted at in his hair which was in the Caesar stage of the growing-out process. The 27 year old said he had been a monk for the past 13 years! When I asked what would make someone “disrobe” (I know, the word is just too much, isn’t it?) after all that time, he said, “Well, I think a monk’s life is too smooth…and I want my life to be kind of….rough.”
Oh REAL-ly! OOooooooh! I found him even more attractive until he said this…..
“And I had to disrobe now, because I want to be a flight attendant and there’s an age limit for joining.”
“Umm, okay. That’s fair.”
Time went on with Eager Monk Man and Cute Disrobed Man. Finally, CDM said he had to go, and waved goodbye. I was left there with EMM politely listening to him going on about a Buddhist temple in NYC, while the vision of my body sprinting down the stairs after CDM was repeating itself in my head. After a couple of minutes, I kind of hinted to the EMM that I should probably get going. As we were making our way down the steps, the EMM suggested I could come to see his room in the monk compound (of which the temple was a part of).
WHAT?!?!?!
A monk is inviting me back to his room? Is that…uh…right? Awkwardly, I declined, saying I better be going. Before I reached the bottom, CDM was there with two old women who were probably his relatives. Meanwhile, the EMM had scrawled out his name, address, phone number, and email on a slip of paper and offered it up to me (a woman cannot touch a male monk), of which I took and stuffed in my pocket. Then EMM slunk off, probably embarrassed that I hadn’t accepted his invitation. Though I admit that I’m curious as to what a monk’s room looks like, it didn’t feel quite “ria proy” as a Thai would say, or “proper.”
The CDM seemed to be lurking a little, which was what I was hoping. As they saw me approach my motorcycle, the typical gasps and exclamations were made followed by the usual compliments that *I*, a WHITE GIRL, could possibly ride a motorcycle by myself. Words of “good good” were murmured for a bit. The guy asked if I was going out for fun and I said I was headed to a place not far away where I would be getting dinner. One of the old women said he was going near there too. I asked him if he wanted me to give him a ride…..
This was the big moment….
“Um, I have to go eat dinner with my aunts here. I’m not leaving for a half hour.”
Well, that’s it. I’m not going to wait a half hour, especially since I’m on my way to dinner myself and it’s getting late. CDM blew it! I got on my bike, and drove off. Alas!
I guess I could always go back to the temple…but then I'd have to deal with EMM who hinted again and again that I could always find him there at the temple. Ugh.
Well, maybe not.
I got there right about 5:30pm, and I knew it might be closing just about now. So, as I was hurrying up the tiny stairs, I came upon a figure on the side. There were some cement benches and some trees. I saw a Thai man who was dressed only in what could be described as a giant loincloth/diaper (kind of what you’d see strapped to a sumo wrestler). He was making these movements back and forth..back and forth..and I was slow to understand what was going on. “What is he doing….is he exercising….that…doesn’t….look quite right. Wait a minute, is that a PENIS I see? Holy shit!” It seems the young man was doing his very best to get it on with a cement bench. During this whole time I didn’t break my stride up the stairs, but was completely stunned. I’ve never seen anything like this in Thailand before. I kept walking as if all was normal.
Yet, it was not over, those thankfully less dramatic. Only about 15 feet from Mr. Eager Beaver was another man, passed out on the path to my left, in a classic too-much-Thai-whisky pose. You’d expect an empty bottle in his hand, with the last few drops slowly seeping out to the ground. But no! In this man’s outstretched hand was a slightly-mangled box of….Chiclets! I kid you not! It was a box of gum! If you saw everything save his hand, you would swear the guy was passed out from booze. Maybe he tried to freshen his breath at the last minute before going unconscious.
And what is strange about all of this is that it is a temple, a very important one that tourists flock to, heaving themselves slowly up the baby steps, and stopping along the way to catch their breath or ring a giant bell of which they have no comprehension of its significance. I’ve never seen such things at a temple before, which would be comparable to a man rubbing up to a statue of Mary in a catholic church.
Finally, I reached the top, after being warned by each descending tourist that the roof was closed. This was disappointing since the roof is, of course, the whole point of climbing this stairway to heaven. On the roof, next to the giant golden stupa, you have a 360 degree view of Bangkok which gives the city a kind of beauty and dignity impossible to see in daylight.
At the top, the doors were closed, but a few people were hanging out on the steps, taking in the view and enjoying the strong and cool winds that blow at that height. Standing there was the obligatory monk, looking a little nervous and eager at the same time. There were also the people taking care of the temple (those who locked the doors and sold tourists water, soda, and cheap Buddha images), who were looking impatient with the hangers-on.
It wasn’t long before the monk had struck up a conversation with me, as well as a good-looking young Thai man who worked there. I was surprised to be attracted to the Thai man since it’s a pretty rare thing for me. It’s difficult to feel attraction to someone who clocks you in the femininity department. This guy had enough masculinity (hair on his legs, hooray!) to not make me feel like a Nordic giant, and he spoke English well, another rarity. I felt myself torn between the over-eager monk who was obviously trying to establish a friendship in order to “practice his English” as he said, and the cute guy who had an interesting story. The cute guy had just recently “disrobed” from the monkhood which was hinted at in his hair which was in the Caesar stage of the growing-out process. The 27 year old said he had been a monk for the past 13 years! When I asked what would make someone “disrobe” (I know, the word is just too much, isn’t it?) after all that time, he said, “Well, I think a monk’s life is too smooth…and I want my life to be kind of….rough.”
Oh REAL-ly! OOooooooh! I found him even more attractive until he said this…..
“And I had to disrobe now, because I want to be a flight attendant and there’s an age limit for joining.”
“Umm, okay. That’s fair.”
Time went on with Eager Monk Man and Cute Disrobed Man. Finally, CDM said he had to go, and waved goodbye. I was left there with EMM politely listening to him going on about a Buddhist temple in NYC, while the vision of my body sprinting down the stairs after CDM was repeating itself in my head. After a couple of minutes, I kind of hinted to the EMM that I should probably get going. As we were making our way down the steps, the EMM suggested I could come to see his room in the monk compound (of which the temple was a part of).
WHAT?!?!?!
A monk is inviting me back to his room? Is that…uh…right? Awkwardly, I declined, saying I better be going. Before I reached the bottom, CDM was there with two old women who were probably his relatives. Meanwhile, the EMM had scrawled out his name, address, phone number, and email on a slip of paper and offered it up to me (a woman cannot touch a male monk), of which I took and stuffed in my pocket. Then EMM slunk off, probably embarrassed that I hadn’t accepted his invitation. Though I admit that I’m curious as to what a monk’s room looks like, it didn’t feel quite “ria proy” as a Thai would say, or “proper.”
The CDM seemed to be lurking a little, which was what I was hoping. As they saw me approach my motorcycle, the typical gasps and exclamations were made followed by the usual compliments that *I*, a WHITE GIRL, could possibly ride a motorcycle by myself. Words of “good good” were murmured for a bit. The guy asked if I was going out for fun and I said I was headed to a place not far away where I would be getting dinner. One of the old women said he was going near there too. I asked him if he wanted me to give him a ride…..
This was the big moment….
“Um, I have to go eat dinner with my aunts here. I’m not leaving for a half hour.”
Well, that’s it. I’m not going to wait a half hour, especially since I’m on my way to dinner myself and it’s getting late. CDM blew it! I got on my bike, and drove off. Alas!
I guess I could always go back to the temple…but then I'd have to deal with EMM who hinted again and again that I could always find him there at the temple. Ugh.
Well, maybe not.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)