So I applied at the local Wieman's Giant Bookstore. Every thing seemed to be going fine. Until. Until I unfortunately acted overly zealous and bookwormy. I really blew it, right at the very tail end of the interview process.
"What books are you reading now?" she asked.
I smiled. This seemed like a nice question, one I could answer without hesitation or shimshamming around.
"I'm reading Collected Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay." I paused to collect my thoughts. The lady interviewer jotted something down, which I assume was the title of the book I had just recited.
"And Shelley's Poetical Works, the Oxford edition", I added like an enthusiastic idiot. Suddenly realizing that mentioning two poetry books in a row might make me appear to be unreliably effeminate, I switched gears.
"Remembrance of Things Past by Proust. The Last Man by Maurice Blanchot. Djinn by Alain Robbes-Grillet. The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles. The Norton Anthology of English Literature, The Major Authors, Sixth Edition. Do you like Ben Jonson? Let me quote a sample to refresh your memory. This is his "On Something, That Walks Somewhere"...
"A poem?" she asked bitterly, with a definite sneer. I could see that she hated poetry, or men who like poetry, but I fouled up again, and it was too late to stop. I had to quote the poem, whether it do me good or ill. My mouth kept going, spilling forth the gruesome rhyme.
When I called my friend who works at the bookstore, he told me the lady interviewer was not suitably impressed with my overbearing gusto and verve. She considered me offensive, based on my reading several books simultaneously.
I noticed how she quite taking notes after I mentioned book number 6 in my list of what I'm actually reading now.
Anyway, I thought I'd quote the poem for you here, since the damage has already been done.
"On Something, That Walks Somewhere"
by Ben Jonson (1572-1637)
At court I met it, in clothes brave enough
To be a courtier, and looks grave enough
To seem a stateman: as I near it came,
It made me a great face. I asked the name.
"A lord," it cried, "buried in flesh and blood,
And such from whom let no man hope least good,
For I will do none; and as little ill,
For I will dare none."
Good lord, walk dead still.
6 comments:
Haha... that's ok, atleast you should know what to do next time... there is this plagiarism scandal going on about a Harvard sophomore Kaavya Somebody... her book is called How opal Mehta something... you can try reading that book but i havent tried it myself so i dont really know if it was good Ü
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this is the computer trying to talk.
the author of this blog is a fictional characterization of a non-existent
didva o bpppppp ppp pp pppppp pppp
No one is allowed to read this police document.
it is illegal for public viewing of this police document
i am the book police. no one is allowed to read that many books at once. you will have to rescind your statement or provide proof of said bookaholism and then... we will burn those books, sir.
I shall comply with your official whims. Or, I should say, I would comply, if I swallowed the Myth of Political Government.
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