Argh, some regrets I have after watching 惡作劇之吻 (official translation is “It Started with a Kiss”). Can’t stop musing over how effin’ beautiful 鄭元暢 (Zheng Yuan Chang) is now. I know, so pathetic! But wah, his side profile is made up of swoops and curves and sparkles you wouldn’t believe. Ahem. Blargh! Must … distract … self … pain …
On the more whatever side of things, at least the show got me thinking and feeling something again. Stuff about the future. Where I am. How I got here. Should I be here? I may be part of a “strawberry generation” that can’t take the heat and shrivels faster than you can blink, but I’m also blardy traditional in some ways. What is to be done?
Telly, telly, telly. I also like the recent round of Shakespeare adaptations by BBC. For one thing, the actors are neato, and for another, they’ve done some refreshing takes on ye olde material — not so much updating as revealing their relevance to these cranky times.
So far, I’ve only caught Much Ado About Nothing and Taming of the Shrew (missed Macbeth with the interesting James McAvoy in it, unfortunately), but they’ve reacquainted me with a prized take on Kate’s controversial acquiescence to Petruchio, as well as a prized gem from the oeuvre, complete with a charming dissection:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Would love to get me hands on the scripts.