The I of the Beholder
Apparently, I am ‘enigmatic.’ This is not the first time that particular - and largely inaccurate - adjective has been lofted my direction, so herein, at a couple of behests and the impetus of a spoonful of annoyance at such sobriquets, some tremendously time-wasting biographical fiddle-faddle.
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And now there is ... a quiz. “A quiz?!” A quiz. Unannounced, as a quiz should rightly
be. While no mercy will be given, bonus points shall be: one each if you know why
I don't like to read translated texts at bedtime, or for answering any of the toss-off
questions you probably didn't realize at the time were going to be important. If you
can tell me what my 'cause' is, you will receive a whopping 100,000 bonus points.
Just what, exactly, those 100,000 points can be redeemed for is hard to say. A nifty
Muppet keychain? Eternal life? Dinner at a top-secret, exquisite Soho restaurant?
I love number 2 pencils.
One of the following is not something that has actually been remarked in re the biographee.
If you correctly identify which, you shall be granted three wishes.* Clicking the checkboxes
probably will not result in your browser being redirected to a Nigerian hacker cartel.
Probably.
A. “You’ll never feel more naked in your entire life than when [A.] is [X]
looking at you. Those eyes. She- it’s like she can see right into you,
right into your mind, like she can see every bad thing you ever did.
It’s horrible.”
B. “[Study] theory?! She is theory.” [X]
C. “I kid you not: she secretly calls toast ‘nibbly toast’.” [X]
D. “[In her work] there is what you can see, yes, and at that level it’s [X]
accomplished and penetrating and often enviably inspired writing, but
underneath that, or- there is also a... a certain... irresistible frisson. It
breaks open onto a kind of luminosity... like unexpectedly encountering
something vital that you never even suspected you needed.”
*Grand prize of three wishes cannot be converted into infinite wishes. That's just dirty pool. Winner must present two
forms of identification, notarized affidavit, and a plate of Julia Child/Lora Brody’s Boca Negra with the white chocolate
and bourbon cream frosting in order to receive prize. By reading these terms and conditions, you agree to indemnify
and hold harmless me and Lora Brody should any of your wishes, as wishes are sometimes wont to do, backfire on
you. Wishes donated to charity are 100% tax-deductible and will help you get into heaven which, let's face it, is a little
edge we could all use. Truthfully, there's actually no such thing as heaven, when we die we're almost certainly dead,
gone, zippo -- and in any case, we definitely aren’t strolling into a cloud lounge where a kindly bearded daddy figure
and his vaguely Kenny Logginsesque son are waiting to take our cocktail order, nor a celestial hotel where seventy
two virgins are eager for our manly ministrations (female martyrs not being imagined in that particular cosmology,
which is just as well, since seventy two male virgins doesn't seem like an especially enticing concept, does it?) --
but still, giving something to someone who needs it more than you do is a nice gesture, and strengthens the soul
of the world, and makes you feel good and others feel good, and that's a near enough thing to heaven, no?