Blogs.
Through this particular medium of intimate journaling, I have met and loved quite a lot of people. Since blogging peaked several years back and is now on the slow wane, only a handful of my friends still faithfully maintain their posts considering the severe lack of serious readers these days. Some like Diffident David can't even make it through a particularly lengthy tweet, much less an entire mundane blogpost. Let's not even go to books yet.
I know many would shake their heads in disbelief but really, when was the last time you saw someone pick up a book to read for pleasure? Some kids can even barely finish reading a brief status update.
But I digress. Till now I update my blog every once so often though sometimes not as regularly as I would have liked. Most days I people my writings with close friends and acquaintances that I know, sketching a rough caricature of their characters, personalities and outlooks with some all-too-obviously laughable exaggerations of their everyday foibles, faults and flaws.
Which I love. Don't get me wrong, I don't see idiosyncrasies and imperfections as something to dislike in a person - I take them as part and parcel of who they are.
Yet rather than being incensed at being satirized there are some friends who actually find themselves aggrieved at not being more aggressively lampooned in my posts - despite the fact that their lives are so wildly fascinating that it makes them instantly recognizable just by merely hinting at the place and events.
Such as Curvy Carenina.
Obviously christened as such after Tolstoy's eponymous heroine, Anna Karenina, who finds herself rather helplessly dragged along the relentless locomotive of her fiery love life directly onto the sadly unforgiving tracks. Pretty much gossiped about by the rest of the priggish townspeople who have painted her character in terrifyingly bold shades of scarlet. Fortunately our Carenina has far more wit, considerably more forthrightness and hopefully significantly more resolve which would preclude her from that unfortunate, and ultimately foolish, dive under the wheels of a passing train.
Indeed they bear more than similarities in character since just like the dramatic Russian socialite she's named after, Carenina finds herself the unwitting target of a lustful, affluent aristocrat who's already irrevocably betrothed to another far lesser being.
Vronsky : There are as many kinds of loves, as there are hearts.
Carenina : Tell me more.
Vronsky : You're far more informal, so casual and carefree when it comes to love. Certainly far more than my fiance could ever be who has everything planned out.
Carenina : Every move, every position?
Vronsky : Decidedly so.
Which obviously makes me wonder. How irrationally formal could this fiancee be? Would she prepare beautifully handwritten invitations for sexual intercourse on gilt-edged cards expecting an equally formal RSVP in return? Place a note on his and her calendars to confirm the expected timing to match?
Through this particular medium of intimate journaling, I have met and loved quite a lot of people. Since blogging peaked several years back and is now on the slow wane, only a handful of my friends still faithfully maintain their posts considering the severe lack of serious readers these days. Some like Diffident David can't even make it through a particularly lengthy tweet, much less an entire mundane blogpost. Let's not even go to books yet.
I know many would shake their heads in disbelief but really, when was the last time you saw someone pick up a book to read for pleasure? Some kids can even barely finish reading a brief status update.
But I digress. Till now I update my blog every once so often though sometimes not as regularly as I would have liked. Most days I people my writings with close friends and acquaintances that I know, sketching a rough caricature of their characters, personalities and outlooks with some all-too-obviously laughable exaggerations of their everyday foibles, faults and flaws.
Which I love. Don't get me wrong, I don't see idiosyncrasies and imperfections as something to dislike in a person - I take them as part and parcel of who they are.
Yet rather than being incensed at being satirized there are some friends who actually find themselves aggrieved at not being more aggressively lampooned in my posts - despite the fact that their lives are so wildly fascinating that it makes them instantly recognizable just by merely hinting at the place and events.
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| Maybe it's time to find Karenina! |
Such as Curvy Carenina.
Obviously christened as such after Tolstoy's eponymous heroine, Anna Karenina, who finds herself rather helplessly dragged along the relentless locomotive of her fiery love life directly onto the sadly unforgiving tracks. Pretty much gossiped about by the rest of the priggish townspeople who have painted her character in terrifyingly bold shades of scarlet. Fortunately our Carenina has far more wit, considerably more forthrightness and hopefully significantly more resolve which would preclude her from that unfortunate, and ultimately foolish, dive under the wheels of a passing train.
Indeed they bear more than similarities in character since just like the dramatic Russian socialite she's named after, Carenina finds herself the unwitting target of a lustful, affluent aristocrat who's already irrevocably betrothed to another far lesser being.
He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.Undaunted by any such restrictive societal conventions, Carenina has responded to his frequent exhortations of love by utterly yielding to his highly seductive charms. Speaking of his shockingly accommodating fiancee, our wicked Vronsky dismisses his adulterous intentions easily enough.
Vronsky : There are as many kinds of loves, as there are hearts.
Carenina : Tell me more.
Vronsky : You're far more informal, so casual and carefree when it comes to love. Certainly far more than my fiance could ever be who has everything planned out.
Carenina : Every move, every position?
Vronsky : Decidedly so.
Which obviously makes me wonder. How irrationally formal could this fiancee be? Would she prepare beautifully handwritten invitations for sexual intercourse on gilt-edged cards expecting an equally formal RSVP in return? Place a note on his and her calendars to confirm the expected timing to match?
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