This is an addition to the last post, so please read it first if you have not already.
Upon further consideration, I have succeeded in dandifying my partygoing experience through a somewhat obvious yet compelling literary allusion. Fitzgerald writes of Daisy Buchanan that her voice conveyed "a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour." Well, that's me at a party without a drink. I imagine that there are spectacular, Cecil B. Demille-esque proceedings in the next room over, and I'm always too early or too late for them. Whether this makes me a Carraway or a Gatsby is yet to be determined, and while this insight offers little new exegesis of The Great Gatsby, it allows me to remain not just a drunkard, but a gentleman drunkard (as most common boors don't go around referencing canonical works of literature to describe their detox).
3 comments:
Better than the dangers of extreme excess, which I fear would place you among gentleman drunkards of the "Dr. Matthew-Mighty-grain-of-salt-Dante O'Connor" variety [look out for wigs and cross-dressing]. I.e. fun names, but shitty literature.
Did you really just make a Nightwood reference? I think a part of me just died. The rest will join it when I have to read that crappy crappy book for prelims this summer.
My advice is to just save yourself the trouble and burn the book now, or you'll end up like me, making references to it on blogs so that the time you lost forever while reading it isn't for naught.
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