This Writer: Has Been Gished

This awfternoon I watched a movie from 1930 I beelieve which starred Lillian Gish in her first talkie.  It was a terribly wonderful and touching movie in which she plays a princess whose mother is trying dreadfully hard to get her to marry a prince.  Her name was Alexaandra and his Albert.  But she fancied herself in love with a Tutor whose name was Nicholas.

The strangest thing happened – and in the event you thought I may have developed typoitis – I am simply trying to give you the idea of what happened.  I went outside following the satisfying end of the movie and as I thawt great thawts I found her little girlish voice running madly about my brain.

So madly in fact, every single thawt is terribly wonderful and sprite like and glamorous.  How strange!  I mean reaally how could this happen?

The dialogue itself was, I thawt ratha plain and simple but combined with those eyes, those gestures hung over from silent movies, I was captured into a world of gentility and grace.

Why right now I find myself looking at cleaning supplies I had out, before I realized I was truly a princess and truly gished.

Why I find myself gesturing much the same as she.  How simply wondaful.  Wondaful I say and yes I mean it!

This was not at all what I had in mind for today’s post, but until the magic dust of Gish dissapates I am quite unable to carry on as the commoner I once believed myself.  I do beelieve that by the morrow this may have passed.  Perhaps.

Nonetheless I shall with great exaggeration play this out to its end.  It is the only way you see.

Taa Taa for now my worthy subjects.  I am off to enjoy the Gishing and shall have to find some sheer fabric to toss around as I think, walk, and tawk.

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