it was not for me to muse over bygones...
so i said to myself "esther! esther! esther! duty, my dear!"
shhh... don't tell, but i've never grown out of playing pretend.
now i don't have imaginary friends; i have imaginary selves.
they get me through the endless chores and long dull stretches
that make up most of everyday responsible adult life.
my favorite fantasy character is is an eccentric old woman,
a cross between mrs. robinson, miss havisham, & a female jay gatsby.
when i'm her i love silk pajamas and gin in the afternoon.
i own a white tiger and halfheartedly seduce the pool boy.
my current character doesn't own a tiger--
she's at the opposite end of the spectrum.
she's a well-scrubbed grateful young ward,
patient with children, thrifty,
cheerful without being funny,
totally asexual, but profoundly feminine,
trustworthy, humble, and a keen observer.
she's not a cross between anything, i've just learned,
since i gave up on the golden age
and started bleak house by charles dickens
she's esther, the narrator!
(and she's about to fold my laundry.)
posted by self_invasion | 7:00 PM
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