the definition of sexy
i love the French philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy and here's why. he's adorable in an intellectually stimulated pixie sort of way. oh, and, of course, the accent.
i had checked out his book "American Vertigo," but had to stop for a couple of reasons. timing was a big issue. i really wanted to sit down and soak it in, but my life was really hectic. few things are worse than reading an interesting book in sections. it just loses something. mostly, i knew within the first two pages that i wanted to own it so i could rub it against my breasts at night, but also to make notations in the margins and shit. so, i'm waiting for it to be sent to me as i type.
this man is a punctuation god. it's incredible. they should really have a fresh pair of panties inserted in the book jacket.
most girls go for a guy's body or car or status. me? i'm all about language...and his back. it's not so much that i will definitely date you if you use it well, but you kiss that ass good-bye if you fuck it up beyond recognition. Bernard, however, has paragraphs that cover a solid half of a page that are one sentence. it's the most incredible thing. he'll have various asides and digressions and not only be able to bring it all home, but work it out as one sentence through skillful placements of brackets, parentheses, and the like. i want that kind of command over dashes, commas, hyphens, and ellipses. my shit's all over the place. i want to, like him, be able to constructively and coherently translate the meandering of my brain onto to paper like that.
maybe i'm weird...or a dork...but that shit is hot to me. i grant that i am the daughter of an English professor and an elementary school teacher, so language is extraordinarily important to me. i don't know. having that kind of control, considering the power of words, is a good look.
it's the sexiness of mental dexterity and linguistical craft.
{in bad French accent} Bernard, I have come to zee France to zee France kiss you.
i had checked out his book "American Vertigo," but had to stop for a couple of reasons. timing was a big issue. i really wanted to sit down and soak it in, but my life was really hectic. few things are worse than reading an interesting book in sections. it just loses something. mostly, i knew within the first two pages that i wanted to own it so i could rub it against my breasts at night, but also to make notations in the margins and shit. so, i'm waiting for it to be sent to me as i type.
this man is a punctuation god. it's incredible. they should really have a fresh pair of panties inserted in the book jacket.
most girls go for a guy's body or car or status. me? i'm all about language...and his back. it's not so much that i will definitely date you if you use it well, but you kiss that ass good-bye if you fuck it up beyond recognition. Bernard, however, has paragraphs that cover a solid half of a page that are one sentence. it's the most incredible thing. he'll have various asides and digressions and not only be able to bring it all home, but work it out as one sentence through skillful placements of brackets, parentheses, and the like. i want that kind of command over dashes, commas, hyphens, and ellipses. my shit's all over the place. i want to, like him, be able to constructively and coherently translate the meandering of my brain onto to paper like that.
maybe i'm weird...or a dork...but that shit is hot to me. i grant that i am the daughter of an English professor and an elementary school teacher, so language is extraordinarily important to me. i don't know. having that kind of control, considering the power of words, is a good look.
it's the sexiness of mental dexterity and linguistical craft.
{in bad French accent} Bernard, I have come to zee France to zee France kiss you.
posted by badassed at
4:31 PM
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