An Interview (of sorts)

by angeliska on February 4, 2004

Alright, folks- here it is: an impromptu interview conducted by the illustrious
. I don’t normally go in for such memes, but in this case I was piqued by the eloquence of the interviewer, and was not to be let down- as the questions were most entertaining and thought provoking. Do excuse the excess of self-interest, but I suppose that’s what these things are for, no?
1. We share the trait of bulbous eyes. Were they always lovely? If not, did your face eventually grow around them, like two eroding obelisks in a swooping river?
Were you picked on as a child for them?

I suppose they always have been like this, odd alien fishbowl eyes.
They certainly don’t work very well- might as well be made out of pine-tar,
as I’m truly blind as a bat. My vision is negative 13 or negative 11.
I forget, something ridiculously bad. I think they’ve only gotten more pronounced
as I’ve grown older. Maybe they’ll eventually fall out. That would be awful.
They were usually obscured somewhat with a giant pair of thick, unwieldy spectacles when I was a child, and I was picked on in general for many things, but the glasses didn’t help, particularly. They change color also. People tend to comment on them, and seem to like them, but I do wish they worked better.
2. Shit. You made a slight slip. You’ve just insulted the hostess, by accident, at a party you were attending. She is one of those people who always demands ‘satisfaction’ when in her cups and cries, “Pistols! Pistols at dawn!” flailing her massive and quaking arms in the air. Your bowels shudder, as she’s a fantastic shot. However, the guests at the party remind her that since you’re the guest, by the law of hospitality and the shabby pineapple you brought by pure luck, she is not allowed to pick the utensil of the duel. What do you pick? It can be a weapon, any weapon. Or if you’re feeling abstract, it can even be a game. Scrabble, Don’t Wake the Dragon, Set, you name it. It can’t be overly abstract, though. Like a triptych-off, anything like that. And who would be your ‘second’, given the choice of duel you pick?
Oh dear, how thrilling! Only after days of pondering and strategising
was I able to come to a decision that is both honest and well, deadly.
This would be, I’m assuming, a duel to the death- not just first blood, right?
Or is it terribly rude to kill the host? Doubly rude, if I’ve already insulted her to begin with. In that case, I would have to say it would be a game of Mumbleypeg.
It would have to begin sometime after 3 o’ clock in the morning, and a sizable bottle of decent whiskey would be put to hand. The weapons would be from my own armoury, (or desk drawer) being as they are both, by day- mere letter-openers.
But by night- they are fierce weapons of dexterity and foolhardiness!
One is a black baby goat’s foot with a sharp silver skewer at the end.
This one is mine. The other is a miniature jeweled scimitar with a mean curve to it. There is some obvious disadvantage for my rival here, both as far as knives go- and also because when in my cups, I tend to be frighteningly good at Mumbleypeg- in a Bishop sort of way. The first one to seriously disengage a finger loses. As far as seconds go, I’ll always accept, and even thirds at times- though in this case my choice would be based on proximity, bravery and loyalty, as well as superior hand-eye coordination.
(I must add, after some consideration, that though I do play a mean game of Set, (which I carry on my person at all times)- that a triptych-off would really being far preferable to all this bloodshed, if it were to be allowed..)
3. Why the love of bees? The bee is a revered image, but why for you? Have you ever been stung? Have you woken up to find a bee in your mouth? Is it just queen bees and royal jelly, or is it more? Drones as well?
I have always charmed bees, and been charmed by them. One of my first memories is of sitting in the sun and feeling something land on my head. I reached up thinking it was a dead leaf, but was surprised to find something alive and buzzing angrily in my little clenched fist.
I don’t think it could’ve helped but sting me, which it did- but I was thrilled!
It didn’t hurt much, and I ran in shouting that I had been bee-stung. I was very happy to finally experience a bee sting for some reason, though I was sad for the bee.
Since then, bees have always landed on me, and seem to take great delight in crawling all over my person- though I have never been stung again since that day. They’ve crawled in my ears, down my dress, and tickled my nose- but no, I have never awoken to find one in my mouth- yet. I would love to wear a beard of bumblebees, or a fancy, buzzing hat!
I dream of one day having an apiary and raising bees, and one day I will..
I love everything about bee colonies- the queens and the drones alike- they have such remarkably complex societies. And of course I adore any sort of bee product- honey, royal jelly, bee pollen, beeswax et al. Bees appear often in my dreams, usually as an emblem of memory.
“The honey-bee that wanders all day long The field, the woodland, and the garden o’er, To gather in his fragrant winter store, Humming in calm content his winter song, Seeks not alone the rose’s glowing breast, The lily’s dainty cup, the violet’s lips, But from all rank and noxious weeds he sips The single drop of sweetness closely pressed Within the poison chalice.”
“O bees, sweet bees!” I said; “that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.”

4. Most of the adjetives people toss about when talking to or about you, and I’d uncreatively say the same, are “elegant”, and “ethereal”. In another time. Does this ever wear thin? Are there ever expectations of wonder to perform and fulfill? Do you ever just want to walk into a room with soulless Ikea furniture and ‘Modern Women’ magazines and have a (urg) vodka and Sprite? I know you wouldn’t, but you see what I’m saying, yes?
Oh golly, oh gee- well, hum. This one’s a bit tricksy, eh? I am perplexed at times, by people’s perceptions of me- since I tend to be a bit of a chameleon. I like costumes of all sorts, but essentially yes- I am mostly a devoted anachronist. A lipstick Luddite, you might even say! And although modern furniture and vodka both repulse me, I do have a fondness for a few modern conveniences, such as my wonderful flushing toilet, my lovely faucets, and also this enchanting machine which occupies so much of my free time. I have issues with things like carpets and venetian blinds, and bathtubs without clawfeet. Many modern things are unattractive, and made to fall apart. This makes me very sad. I need a time machine very badly, so I can get back to where I belong. Around 1919 would do, I think. There’s a very good reason I live in New Orleans- I am not assaulted by ugly archictecture and aggressively cutting edge crap on a regular basis here. I’d rather things be crumbling and beautiful.
5. This question might be unanswerable, but only if the game of ‘hide and go seek’ is commonly played in your home. You have a large group of folks to your apartment/chateau. The Charades are done, and nobody can seem to find the white ball for carpet bocce, so someone recommends you play hide and go seek, or some such variation. You have the first pick of places to hide, though you are restricted to your house. What is the most fantastic spot in there? Is there such a spot?
Well, I doubt I could cram myself into the cupboards or the fireplaces..The balcony is wide, but unless I was willing to risk some trapeze stunt, I wouldn’t advise it. The closet is of course too obvious, but then once I was safely ensconced it would take some serious spelunking equipment to dislodge me from the enveloping heaps of old coats and dresses..
I had a strange dream once that there was a secret passage in that closet that led to a cellar, a secret room. I went around for days afterwards thinking it might be true. Maybe there’s a trap-door I hadn’t noticed..If so, I’ll be hiding there, so don’t tell the seeker.
So, I am apparently beholden by the rules of this game to post them below. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to ask any questions, at least not ones as witty and creative as the ones above, but I will do my best. It may take a bit, so have patience, do.
1 – Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 – I will respond; I’ll ask you five questions.
3 – You’ll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 – You’ll include this explanation.
5 – You’ll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

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