nymphets
Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze,
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet".
Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze,
I cannot get out, said the starling)
Happy, happy, is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
AMong the protected wild life.
My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soleil Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?
Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to the tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms, she was always Lolita.
-Lolita, Vladimir Nabakov
i finished Nabokov's Lolita and i loved it. oh, how he painted obsession in such lurid detail. with outrage, hallucination, madness and transformation of doomed passion dripping off his pages. how a glimpse of humbert humbert's mind sometimes made you wonder if you were starting to think like him. how he made us feel for the protagonist even though he was crazy and it was all wrong.
for the past week, i've logged off msn early just to spend some time reading it. i couldn't put it down even though i told myself it was time to sleep or study. i'd grab seats on public transport just so that i could read. i'd avoid going out with friends just to know what happens next. it's been ages since i read for pleasure or found a book i thoroughly enjoyed. and that's why i know Lolita is a bloody good book.
and that's why i love Lolita so fondly.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet".
Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze,
I cannot get out, said the starling)
Happy, happy, is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
AMong the protected wild life.
My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soleil Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?
Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to the tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms, she was always Lolita.
-Lolita, Vladimir Nabakov
i finished Nabokov's Lolita and i loved it. oh, how he painted obsession in such lurid detail. with outrage, hallucination, madness and transformation of doomed passion dripping off his pages. how a glimpse of humbert humbert's mind sometimes made you wonder if you were starting to think like him. how he made us feel for the protagonist even though he was crazy and it was all wrong.
for the past week, i've logged off msn early just to spend some time reading it. i couldn't put it down even though i told myself it was time to sleep or study. i'd grab seats on public transport just so that i could read. i'd avoid going out with friends just to know what happens next. it's been ages since i read for pleasure or found a book i thoroughly enjoyed. and that's why i know Lolita is a bloody good book.
and that's why i love Lolita so fondly.