[ExI] Prufrock

[Jeff Davis]

When Lee wrote:

>>"The women come and go,
>>speaking of fellatio."

I experienced a spasm of fussiness.  The rhythm/meter is
unsatisfying,... not quite in correspondence to the original:

...speaking of Michaelangelo.

Lee, for his part, was no doubt faithfully reproducing the variant of
the phrase as he had encountered it.  But I thought it sad, because it
was, to my way of thinking, an entirely unnecessary defect.  For
instance, it could have employed the original "Mi" of Michaelangelo
and, preserved the meter with:

"Speaking of my fellatio."

A bit too personal, that first person?  Then it could have been:

"Speaking of thy fellatio."

Or,

"Speaking of 'Cry fellatio!'"

referring perhaps to a campaign of the anti-war activism where "Cry
'Havoc!' and release the dogs of war" is countered with
"Cry 'Fellatio!' and release the bawds galore."

Or perhaps

"...Try fellatio."  A campaign to broaden sexual horizons.  Or

"Speaking of sly fellatio."  Moving beyond the vanilla version, or

"...High Fellatio."  Enhanced, documented, and certified by the
Fédération Internationale pour le Sexualité.  Or

"Buy fellatio.", the world's oldest advertising slogan.  Or

"Buy fellatio!"  As in "Buy American!"  Or

"Bi-fellatio".  Vive le diversité!  (Not to mention "tri-fellatio"
with the rich complexity implied by the state-space intersection of
geometric and human morphologic possibility).  Or

"...fly fellatio.", if the women in question were nerdy collegiate
entomology majors.

At which point I concluded that I had way too much time on my hands
and left off the poetical(sic) musings to go power wash doggie rugs
and otherwise spiff up the house for our upcoming July 4th "Great
Satan Triumphant" party.

                        ************************************

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

                          ***********************

Best, Jeff Davis

  "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world!"
                        Louie Armstrong


On Sat, Jun 28, 2008 at 9:42 AM, Damien Broderick <thespike at satx.rr.com> wrote:
> At 02:18 AM 6/28/2008 -0700, Lee wrote:
>
>>"The women come and go,
>>speaking of fellatio."
>
> Actually no, that is The Love That Cannot Speak Its Name.
>
> Damien Broderick
>
>
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