My friend and former student N.E. has moved into the apartment on the top floor of our house. Today we had the following email exchange:
On 7/25/06 at 9:47 a.m., N.E. wrote: Whatever, I’m tired and spacey and have a ridiculous backlog of work and woke up with the finale of Jane Eyre: The Musical in my head.
On 7/25/06 at 10:52 a.m., Faustus wrote: I’m shocked that you retained even a note of the finale of Jane Eyre.
On 7/25/06 at 11:12 a.m., N.E. wrote: Isn’t it depressing?
On 7/25/06 at 1:58 p.m., Faustus wrote: Yes.
On 7/25/06 at 2:16 p.m., N.E. wrote: I could just kill myself. Then you could tell everyone who visits your house that someone once committed suicide on the top floor. (“Ooh, when?” “Last Tuesday.”)
And then you could replace him with a proper madwoman in the attic. Surely, E.S. must know a few. It would be better if it could be one his (or your) ex-wives, but one must occasionally compromise.
There is a god, and his name is Faustus. I have been working my morning routine (comp porn, masturbation, lunch plans, blog reading) and guess what everyone??? Lance Bass sucks dick and I don’t care. Well guess what??? No one gives a shit. And my brother from another mother hasn’t written about it or linked to it!!!!! Thank you for not selling out. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
There’s a “Jane Eyre: The Musical”???!!???
Good thing I was already sitting down.
Forgiveness is the mightiest sword.
Forgiveness of those you hate is the highest reward.
“Jane Eyre” would make ANYONE jump off a roof…
Faustus: got an excellent package from your dad. What a guy. Am writing effusive thank-you note. [sudden moment of self-knowledge: why do I write as though I am sending a telegram?]
Anyway, I thought of you and so this is a “hello” note.
When he kills himself, let me know. I need an apartment.