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Perceptify ThyselfFeb 23 '05 Write an essay on this topic.
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I swore off the world of quizzin’ Write offs. I gave them up at the same time I gave up cigarettes, classical tap and my gang war with the kids down the street. But last week I wrote two highly intelligent, detailed, carefully paced and revealing music reviews and there was not one comment. Not one! Once I’d stopped crying into my mint julep (for I am actually not kris-kochanski but a Southern Dandy who wears a necktie and a white suit and I live with a black concubine named Mamie who when she’s not singing spirituals whilst picking cotton is churning butter in the outhouse) I realised that I was in fact desperate for some Epinions-loving and that it seems that one thing has never changed on Epinions- that surveys in which you present a glorified version of yourself open the door to Epinions mutual-masturbation. To updateghost’s (for I think it was he who kicked off this particular affair, and if not, for all intents and purposes we’ll say he did) eternal credit this particular fill-in-the-blanks exercise is acknowledged as the way we perceive ourselves, which is quite a different matter. For example, I’ve often thought that I’m a dead ringer for Kofi Annan (yes, in my white suit and necktie) but oddly I didn’t fool Jeff Gannon for one second. This is strange in itself as he doesn’t really exist. But I digress. My original point was that I have an incredible scrotum. 1. How do you see yourself? I was originally made in black and white, but one day someone paid a thousand colour blind Mexican immigrants to colour in the spaces. Subsequently, my skin is a lively fiesta of terracotta and aquamarine and my hair is maize yellow without any variation in shade. It’s quite a talking point. I used this quote in a comment but a few days ago, but in the words of the ur-artist of the century, Cher, I am a lazy person who works very, very, very hard. 2. What do you see as society’s perception of yourself? That would assume that society notices me. I’m beginning to think that I’m slipping between the proverbial crack of the universal buttocks as not only did I neglect to score an invite to Charles and Camilla’s nuptials, I have failed to be nominated for an Oscar again. I blame this on the liberal Jewish elite who run the media, and not that I was not in a single movie this year (not those considered by the Academy at any rate but I was in several corporate edutainment titles including the runaway success of Interns Are More Than A Vagina With Legs and Typing Skills. It’s big in Korea.) I’m quite often assumed to be arrogant. This is entirely true. Sometimes I speak in a cut-glass English accent. Some people say it’s because I’m snob, others because I’m arrogant. It’s a little from both. Also many things sound better with a shooting, hunting, fishing accent. One of the things you'll hear me say most mornings is "I swear, your son was under my car wheel when I got here." Now imagine that being said by Steve Irwin vis a vis Dame Maggie Smith. My goal in life is to adopt that particular hauteur of a wealthy Parisian matron- the iceberg that sunk the Titanic glare. I wish I could pull off the languid arrogance of Paris, but I have bad posture. So I guess society perceives me as a slumper. 3.How do you think you’ll be remembered after your death? This is somewhat moot as I’m taking everyone with me. Should I fail though, there’s going to be a lot of people who are really pis/ed off. So I guess I’ll be remembered as an annoying failure. If I can be serious for a moment, I have forbidden my parents to talk about me if I die young in some gruesome manner. I don't want to be canonised in the media if I'm killed by a drunk driver or what-not. I have in fact constructed the media statement should such a circumstance arise and included it with my Will- the general bare bones of it that I tried my best to be an okay person, I failed on more than a few occasions but also did a lot of neat stuff and I know my parents were proud of me, ergo so long world and thanks for the nachos. (I should say though that I'm not one of those stoic types who can laugh at death and say 'bah, it has to happen to us all sooner or later'. I am absolutely terrified of death. If I had to nail a rusty nail into my thigh for each additional day of life, I would be seen each morning striding grimly to the tool shed.) 4.What mental disorder would I have, if indeed I had one? This is a bit of a stupid question so instead I’m going to replace it with something infinitely more interesting. 4a Can you share some of your own modern etiquette practices? Certainly! It’s important not to think of etiquette as a book of rules administered by Emily Post bearing a cat o’nine tails whilst screeching at miscreants who wear a hat to their own luncheon. Rather, in these hurly burly days where you’re not quite sure whether you’re attending a lesbian wedding or a bar mitzvah for a hippie collective etiquette should be seen as adapting one’s behaviour for one’s situation for any given time. If, for example, I was kicking back at the plantation with Mamie after a hard day reminding the slaves why picking cotton was righteous with a couple of friends it would seem a trifle over-the-top if I ate my beer and pizza in a dinner suit. However, if I was attending a Supreme Court hearing into my marriage to a hippocampus I would consider wearing something more formal- Bob Mackie, perhaps. The over-use of sequins would almost guarantee a mistrial as Scalia’s eyesight isn’t what it used to be and I would probably permanently scar his retina. Dress is the most obvious example of adapting one’s behaviour to the situation, somewhat like a chameleon or a President’s reasons for going to war. However etiquette is not just clothes, but the way one holds their spork or the way one sits or the way one deep throats. So brings us to the teary conclusion of my first W/O entry in some time. I swore I’d never do another, but I guess I have a pathological need to talk about myself in particularly facetious tones. The moral of this story is that you can achieve anything with hard work, clean living, a fistful of cash and a giant clam.  |
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