I have spent the last three days with a fever of at least 100, and up to 102 (37.7 – 38.8, for the rest of the world. Do Canada, and the UK use Celsius/centigrade for body temperature? I know that they use miles sometimes instead of kilometers. Hm, I must research that). I have sweated a good three pounds off — starting the new year’s off right? —, and have a craving for something which I am shamed to admit that I have hated for years: IRN BRU. I think that it is the fact that I crave Coke (That is actual Coca-Cola, and not the Southern synecdoche), but I am honest enough that I need ginger, or garlic to help me fight this sickness. Gods, I really want the ginger soda. I do not know if it even has ginger in it, but it tastes like it to me.
In other news, I have started Twelfe Night, or What You Will…with a fever. Orsino has never seemed as dramatic. I mean, he still is a gorgeous man, and an instant literature crush for me; nevertheless, dear gods, man, buck up. You can face down a war, but feelings are too much? I do not believe.
On a tangent, for there shall be many, Twelfe, or Twelfth? I have always seen Twelf, or Twelfe. Apparently, it has been changed to Twelfth. I am not sure how to feel about this. I assume since the text has been changed in the text that it would make sense for the title to change as well; however, titles are immensely important. Look at this:Why would they change the title? What gains are there? I suppose since I do not say ‘Tales of Caunterbury’ that I should be still. It, nevertheless, unsettles me.
Twelfe Night is one of my favourites, though. My favourite — of the ones I have read, yes, I admit. I have not read all of them in-depth. Most I have skimmed to check them off that insanely large list which I need to finish putting up on the site….bad Victor — is by far Midsummer. I should say, A Midſommer nights dreame…you know what, Twelfth Night is okay by me now. Although, we should bring back the longs s…and thou.
Back to Twelfe Night in this horridly feverish post. I ought it to you. Twelfe Night is one of my favourites because of college. It was (is?) Dr. Boling’s favourite play. He was our resident Shakespearian — every college has one, right? They are like a secret place where the underage people drink, and get high, right? Ours was the chapel steeple. —. He taught Advanced Shakespeare as an English credit — though it counted towards my Theatre degree as well —. I had a year of Shakespeare. Advanced Acting (all Shakespeare) in the Harvest, and the Spring was Advanced Shakespeare. It turns out that I misread the catalogue. I thought I qualified for it. My best friend was going to be in it, and she raved about his beginning Shakespeare course, so I wanted in it. I marched in, and complained to Dr. Boling who was like, ‘Are you sure?’ (I was, but I was wrong), ‘Eh, whatever. You have taken Advanced Acting.’ He signs the piece of paper to approve me into it. He, thus, solidified the entire English faculty’s belief that I was an English major…and secured me an invite to every English event — Dr. Tebbets, your food was divine; Dr. Schmidt, you are a Southern goddess; Dr. Beal, thank you for our Fiona Apple discussions; Dr. Robbins, it was lovely talking about Jewish-American realities; Dr. Wray, you scared me into being a better student; Prof. Budy, your poetry is a gods-send —. Anyway, I digress. I am sitting there 30 minutes before a paper is due. We would have three plays, I believe, from which to pick one. I chose Twelfe Night, and I bullshitted the entire thing. No joke. I took quotes out-of-context, and shoved them into the paper, and just typed, did not edit, and printed it to turn it in before the ink dried.
I got a 97%. I did not get a 100% because…I had a comma splice. FUCKING COMMAS! If I remember correctly, Dr. Boling also is the type that does not give 100s…which the older I get, the more I respect in theory. Eh. My best friend did not talk to me for three days which in college time is an eon. Dr. Boling, also, kept my paper, and still has it….despite my desire to read even a copy of it.
I agreed to do the Shakespeare 2020 challenge — with said friend, actually — because I want to eft-read the plays with my thesis in mind. I may write a new paper around the same idea….but, you know, actually do the work. My friend cannot be mad at me, still, right?
Also, the only Viola in my mind is Imogen Stubbs in the 1996 film — which is now old enough to drink. Yay.
Toby Stephens is also amazing, so is Helena Bonham Carter…just everyone. Watch it! Seriously, it is amazing.
Be safe. Be loved. Also, be well. The plague is with this one, so do not catch it.
P.S. If anyone knows where to get IRN Bru in Houston, hit me up. I am willing to do shameful things for it.