“I’m Afraid of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”
Murder by Death, Album “Like the Exorcist, but more Breakdancing“
I didn’t mean to make you feel out of place
By the comments on your clothing
Or the makeup on your face
I didn’t mean to pre-empt the chase
You’re the drama queen of every scene
Perfectly out of place
So you cry yourself to sleep
On your blanket of snow
With your tiara of barbie doll heads
And your arms crossed for a pillow
If you can’t make up your mind just how different you should be
Reorganize your priorities to expect more sympathy
Only cynicism can get through to you
Expand the image up the insults negativism through and through
All of this pretending makes me feel a bit confused
You’ve spent your life losing yourself and now you’re marked as used
The evening sky is beguiling, shades of pink clouds filter the remote mainland horizon, a canopy a faint blue, palm fronds and the American flag tossing aimlessly in the wind aside the seaside white stucco house, a flock of high soaring pelicans, Sarasota Bay is a corrugated survey of blue waves. It is nonetheless a reluctant end of day, one not abbreviated by a swim. Earlier the rain suddenly slashed the huge patio windows and pronounced a very different picture. In spite of the Winter Solstice it is yet too late to recover the moment. Accommodation invites itself.
I am so greedy for every particle of the day! It is my punishing motive to arise in the morning – consumption! Ever minute lost to time is a disappointment and regrettable hardship. Transitioning from intent to purpose is like switching horses mid-stream. Yet always the same river to cross.
What she would not give to awaken at 9:30 am! How I chuckled. Of all the things I said, it was that which spoke to her! Nor did she even pretend to enlarge upon the other. Time is precious to her, clearly!
He told me of his custom, his daily repetitions and productions – a 9th century manuscript. From that lofty esotericism to Netflix and “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?“
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a play by Edward Albee first staged in 1962. It examines the complexities of the marriage of a middle-aged couple, Martha and George. Late one evening, after a university faculty party, they receive an unwitting younger couple, Nick and Honey, as guests, and draw them into their bitter and frustrated relationship.
Christopher Bigsby asserts that this play stands as an opponent of the idea of a perfect American family and societal expectations as it “attacks the false optimism and myopic confidence of modern society”. Albee takes a heavy-handed approach to the display of this contrast, making examples out of every character and their own expectations for the people around them. Societal norms of the 1950s consisted of a nuclear family, two parents and two (or more) children. This conception was picturesque in the idea that the father was the breadwinner, the mother was a housewife, and the children were well behaved.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? smashes these conventions and shows realistic families that are far from perfect and possibly ruined. The families of Honey and Martha were dominated by their fathers, there being no sign of a mother figure in their lives. George and Martha’s chance at a perfect family was ruined by infertility and George’s failure at becoming a prominent figure at the university. Being just a few of many, these examples directly challenge social expectations both within and outside of a family setting.
As bland as it may be portrayed even the commonality of life is a spectacle. What secret obsessions and melancholy persist, the undisclosed undercurrents? What independent explanation is there of the rigid mediocrity? Maybe she’s a saint!
Albee described the inspiration for the title thus:
I was in there [a saloon in New York] having a beer one night, and I saw “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” scrawled in soap, I suppose, on this mirror. When I started to write the play it cropped up in my mind again. And of course, who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf means who’s afraid of the big bad wolf . . . who’s afraid of living life without false illusions. And it did strike me as being a rather typical, university intellectual joke.
Searching the internet for the proper spelling of Woolf I came across the lyrics of the group mentioned above.
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The people at Genius focus on literary expression – though I never would have imagined the interest to derive from rap music! My brief look at their material reminds me that driving is a mechanical skill.