I am glad, so glad, that enough writers on blogs I read decided to post those pre-Christmas-melancholy bits. I was about to do it myself before I was heaped with a pile of other people's. (Plus, mine was going to have the added bonus of my unrequited love of a movie character-- honestly, Eva Green's character in Casino Royale, how could you not love her?
I seriously swore at the screen when Bond said he loved her because I knew, right then, that she would have to die. And that got to me. Can you blame me?
But anyway, I read a few other people's weepings and it totally removed my desire to write my own. Don't get me wrong- they were well-written and I appreciate them for what they are. But
[coming back two hours later] There is no way to say what I mean without entering the mood I don't want to enter. But this is what Oscar Wilde had to say: "There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better."
And while we're on Oscar Wilde quotes, here are a few of my favorites:
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
"Seriousness is the last refuge of the shallow."
"The only way to behave to a woman is to make love to her if she is pretty, and to someone else if she is plain."
"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."
"Woman begins by resisting a man's advances and ends by blocking his retreat."
The point is, whenever you feel dangerously serious, find some Oscar Wilde and innoculate yourself.