||[Nov. 24th, 2004|12:49 pm]
One of the stimulating things about LJ is that you never know when the Messerschmidts are going to come diving at you out of the sun. |
Mainly you're among friends, but it's a public arena and anything is possible.
I like it that it's public. Yeah, I do really.
I guess I don't like to be stereotyed.
I think simply being male was enough to trigger her hostility.
If she wants to be an effective teacher, if she wants to help people understand her stance, she will need to learn to first ask questions and be certain of her facts before drawing and quartering people. I suspect she simply savors having an agenda and takes pride in her anger.
She could have learned a great deal from you, perhaps even enough to change her currently inflexible posture about men.
P.S. May has drawn me in and captivated me in the first thirty pages of your novel. How I wish I were fierce and wonderful like her! I'm looking forward to going on adventures with her.
And poor Hob, up in the tree...
People with hardline agendas always reserve their greatest anger for their slightly milder or ideologically divergent allies. I'm a menshevik to her bolshevik, a jansenist to her jesuit.
Anger is a big high. So is belonging to a small, ideologically pure sect.
I'm glad you like May and Hob. Hob is also me (of course.)
I do like Hob. Will he die? I hope not. I like the ghosts--
I hope he gets to live in the tree they led him to!
Poor man, everything taken away.
(I'm always fascinated with that theme, which you've now mentioned twice: how does one survive with nothing? Where to start?
I once asked my sister how on earth we wound up with cars and telephones, when all we started out with was earth and trees.
How would I survive, I asked her, and make a sophisticated civilized environment for myself if I landed back in time in some grassy glade with just my bare hands?
Well, she mused, you'd first need to learn how to smelt...
Hob has a long and active life ahead of him....
The starting with nothing thing provides a good deal of the fascination of Robinson Crusoe- and all those other desert island stories. Usually some cheating is involved- like a case of tools and other conveniences gets washed ashore from a wreck. R.C.- as I remember- is supplied with everything from a musket to a Bible.
I love the smelting story.
I enjoyed The Swiss Family Robinson. They really had it made, didn't they? An entire ship full of pots and pans, telescopes, and ducks.
Wouldn't it be fun to live in a treehouse? Especially if you had no choice?
And the thing about writing novels is that you can play-act that and any other experience.
The Arial to her Helvetica.