It is I, the terminally uninspired!
Here's lookin' at you, Nick...
I spent the weekend writing a paper for my PACS class...it started out so well, but then tragedy struck. For your edification, I present a dramatization of what my paper would've equivocated had it been a Shakespearean tragic hero of sorts...and bear with me. I'm tired. My when it comes to iambs, sometimes I have two left feet. (If you get the pun in that you may just be as nerdy as me....heh heh!)
The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Paperius
Act I- Kat starts optimistically with a pretty good beginning, Saturday afternoon. pgs. 1-5
Paperius: What ho! I sing to you from the very zenith of Parnasus,
thou most sainted couch of the inspired nine! Tell me, my muses,
Which of you shall we say doth love us most,
That we our largest bounty may extend,
our fairest mein of the propose-ed tract,
Which of thy hallowed hands shalt grace my pristine parchment
with purest literary ken?
I praise thee, most mighty ones,
O, that my voice shall toll off these happy hills,
and sing praise of thee in heartfelt tones!
Act II- Things continue pretty well, Sunday morning. pgs. 6-7
Paperius: If music be the food og genius, play on,
Give me excess of it that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That phrase again, it had a sighing turn,
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes across crests of unfurling pages,
Sweet pen, continue thy loving caresses!
Act III- Things go sour, Sunday afternoon. pgs. 7-8
Paperius: Here comes the house of Writer's Block!
Let me take the law on my side. Let them begin.
Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?
Do you quarrel, sir?
[Fight ensues]
Act IV-And even worse....Sunday evening, pgs.9-10
Paperius: O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and disolve itself into a pulp,
Or that Everlasting had not fixed his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God, O god,
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the devices of this paper!
Muse, thou faithless strumpet!
Thou hast played upon my stops like a penny whistle
and hast now cast me off!
Act V- The Bitter End. Monday morning, 2am, pgs. 11-11 1/2
Paperius: O, I am slain! [He dies]
Curtain.
Here's lookin' at you, Nick...
I spent the weekend writing a paper for my PACS class...it started out so well, but then tragedy struck. For your edification, I present a dramatization of what my paper would've equivocated had it been a Shakespearean tragic hero of sorts...and bear with me. I'm tired. My when it comes to iambs, sometimes I have two left feet. (If you get the pun in that you may just be as nerdy as me....heh heh!)
The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Paperius
Act I- Kat starts optimistically with a pretty good beginning, Saturday afternoon. pgs. 1-5
Paperius: What ho! I sing to you from the very zenith of Parnasus,
thou most sainted couch of the inspired nine! Tell me, my muses,
Which of you shall we say doth love us most,
That we our largest bounty may extend,
our fairest mein of the propose-ed tract,
Which of thy hallowed hands shalt grace my pristine parchment
with purest literary ken?
I praise thee, most mighty ones,
O, that my voice shall toll off these happy hills,
and sing praise of thee in heartfelt tones!
Act II- Things continue pretty well, Sunday morning. pgs. 6-7
Paperius: If music be the food og genius, play on,
Give me excess of it that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That phrase again, it had a sighing turn,
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes across crests of unfurling pages,
Sweet pen, continue thy loving caresses!
Act III- Things go sour, Sunday afternoon. pgs. 7-8
Paperius: Here comes the house of Writer's Block!
Let me take the law on my side. Let them begin.
Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?
Do you quarrel, sir?
[Fight ensues]
Act IV-And even worse....Sunday evening, pgs.9-10
Paperius: O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and disolve itself into a pulp,
Or that Everlasting had not fixed his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God, O god,
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the devices of this paper!
Muse, thou faithless strumpet!
Thou hast played upon my stops like a penny whistle
and hast now cast me off!
Act V- The Bitter End. Monday morning, 2am, pgs. 11-11 1/2
Paperius: O, I am slain! [He dies]
Curtain.
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