I often joke saying my mistakes are my main form of entertainment. And that is probably truer than it should be. Sometimes the very thought might …Yeah I make mistakes and damn proud of it….sort of
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.