Friday, January 16, 2009

Oh Betsy, O!

一笑万古春, 一啼万古
--易顺鼎, "万古愁曲"

(A smile ushers in the spring,
a tear darkens all the world)

[Qing Dynasty poet Yi Shunding, in a poem dedicated to Mei Lanfang,
a Peking Opera singer famous for his portrayals of women]

The trail of tears in her wake stretches the vast land and rolls over loam, shale, and sand. Listen to those shrill cries of men, they who worked this land that now bleeds through their fingers and gathers as ash in the frostbitten ground. Calcite gaps fill, abandoned abbeys drown, none give witness. Grand conurbations nee testament to the human will are devoured like figs by a fire of longing grander and fiercer in its reckless heat than anything we have known or could have dreamed. In its singular brilliance the sun is blotted out by an emboldened escarpment and at the base of a ridge beset by darkness a God-bespoke crag with its callused jailer's heart kneels indifferently over a dying man whose darting eyes behold the face of evil. His last gurgling breath carries the words you will live in pain. Mors ultima ratio, the crag replies and extends two forked fingers upon unblinking lids. The anchorite in his house of dust too cries. Up above a dark shape with its macabre shadow catches the harrowing scent of brine and discerns out of the endless swale a purpling river of contused hearts beseeching like prayer for the merciful stamp of the dark beast's cinder feet. The shape is a sword, a cold and jagged impulse. It is a wish on fire. Its wings careen in ecstatic imitation of self-possession or a harpy bereaved above this rising sea of sorrow.

Oh Betsy, O! Fate never wavered, but must our piked hearts have flapped in the wind of your conquest?

HOW WAS IT? Her former hook-ups answer:
Jeff Hartline: Sublime, yet sublimely perverted. I've been having wet dreams ever since. They always start with a bottle of baijiu and a stone lion, and end unfit for publication.

Andrew Hooker: Layers upon layers of glad-ification. So many fluids.

Greg May:
Best I ever had. Not only did it last just the right amount of time, there were no hard feelings afterwards. No regrets. No goodbyes.

Kevin Reitz:

Betsy, dear betsy, the night of our bafflegab
You didn't even mention my abundant flab.
You were tender, nurturing, soft, gentle;
Also freaky, dirty, wrong, and experimental.
Your memory lives on, erotic and sordid,
Helped, no doubt, by the DVD I recorded
Available for download, ten kuai apiece,
So the world can enjoy "Betsy and Obese."
Jason Chen: Who is Betsy?

Nice try, Jason. Nice try.

And her rivals, who have stood in corners at parties, uncomfortable in their own skin, as Betsy approached their lovers and with nary a wink pulled them into her, in plain sight, as bystanders cringed while casting furtive glances at the newly heartbroken:
Sandy Wang: It was like she reached into my chest and replaced my heart with a donut.

Lauren Reed: Candice's mom won't return my phone calls because she is under the impression that you two have a shot at something real. I'm fine with never turning that trick again, but could you at least put this woman out of her delusional misery and tell her that commitment, honestly, and intentionality are the antithesis of all of your relationships? I can't stand to see her like this.

Kelly Yang: I hate Betsy.

Oh Betsy, O. To forgive, we forgive! And forget, forever.


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