thoughts on flirting: behind the scenes

June 12, 2012

So. I began writing a Thoughts on Flirting entry on the bus. I also broke off on the bus, mainly because I realised I was so busy being clever I’d missed my stop and ended up in Kilbirnie.  And who really wants to go to Kilbirnie? Really.

This is kind of how the entry went:


So. I’m beginning this on my phone at the bus stop, wrapped warmly in layers that still aren’t enough, not this winter. There are girls everywhere, dressed in teal; I’m going home to get seduced by a mouthing churchman right on top of of my oblivious buffoon of a husband. To prove a point, mind, but that kind of point takes time to rouse. That’s why I’m beginning this now.*

The gabble on the bus is deafening. I want to talk about flirting. I want to talk about flirting because everyone else is, and we’ve already established my willingness to step off bridges when everyone else is already in the water. Drowning like ducks. Can ducks drown? I dunno.

I might do this in parts, though. There are myriad conversations happening right now on the blogs of my friends at The Blog Roll, which means there are many, many heads to address. (I wonder if the hydra was polyphallic? Symmetry, y’know. Damn the censors. It’s an actual question. Actually, maybe the hydra was female. Scylla was and she was hydralike, wasn’t she? Where is my Ovid?)


Now that I am reunited with the internet, I can safely say that both Plato and Pseudo-Apollodorus name the Hydra as she. I’ll take that. I can also say with some security that my default bus-mode seems to be stream-of-consciousness. And this is where I have to cease because I’m home and warm and sleepy and must needs nap before I wake to pretend pretended infatuation for someone who sounds less like a sleazebag seducer and more like a helpfully informative passer-by, which could be a mildly tricky feat. We’ll see.

Actual thoughts on flirting to come later.



* Y’know, it’s fascinating how often the false-seduction scene turns up. There’s this chunk of time somewhere between 1600-1800 when almost all the plays written in Europe have commedia dell’arte themes running like blood through them and it’s beautiful. I love commedia so much. I really do. I’m fully aware, of course, that in five hours or so I’m going to be shouting abuse at the top of my lungs about Moliere, microphones, clumsy translations and my own stupidity in volunteering for Librivox. It happens every time I record.**
** It’s a little different when I record music, although I get equally frustrated and obsessed. Why do we let perfectionists near editing equipment? I don’t understand this kind of masochism! WAUUUUUGH.

2 Responses to “thoughts on flirting: behind the scenes”

  1. Polly Says:

    yea…we often went to kilbernie for supermarket shop…just saying

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