"I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything about."
Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband
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"I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything about."
Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband
Oscar Wilde
(Oct. 16th 1854 - Nov. 30th 1900)
Brief Bio:
Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde was born in Ireland, the second son of Dublin socialites. Fluent in many languages, he excelled as a student at Trinity and Oxford (Magadalen College), where he became a Freemason. After university, when his childhood sweetheart married Bram Stoker, Wilde traveled to the United States to give a lecture tour on aestheticism, during which he met Walt Whitman. Famous in British society for his personality as much as his writing, he cultivated a growing reputation as a playwright and social oddity. In 1895 he sued his lover’s father for slander, thereby exposing the relationship, and getting himself prosecuted for “gross indecency” with men. He was sentenced to two years’ hard labor, after which he left for Paris, where he died of meningitis.
Notable Works:
The Happy Prince and Other Stories (1888 fairy stories)
Salome (1891 play)
The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891 novel)
The Importance of Being Earnest (1895 play)
The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898 poem)
The Grave:
Oscar was initially buried in a pauper’s grave outside of Paris. Eventually his friends arranged for him to be moved to Pere Lachaise Cemetery. Wilde’s tomb features a modernist-style angel carven in a stone block. It was made by sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein at the request of Wilde’s literary executor, Robert Ross. Considered as controversial as Wilde himself, the phallus of the statue was removed by vandals and is currently missing. For years the grave was kissed by fans in reference to a love letter Wilde wrote to Lord Alfred Douglas, in which he described his “red rose-leaf lips.” Because cleaning off the lipstick was eroding the stone, the grave is now surrounded by a glass barrier. Ross’ ashes were interred in the tomb in 1950.
Pere Lachaise Cemetery
16 rue du Repos, 75020
Paris, France (Belleville / Père Lachaise)
Surrounding Area:
Fans of Oscar Wilde may also visit the hotel where he died on the Rue des Beaux-Arts. The building has been extensively remodeled. Oscar died in the little alcove across from the bar on the ground floor.
Further Reading:
Oscar Wilde Project Gutenberg
Article about Wilde’s Tomb
The Wilde-Whitman Love Affair article
L’Hotel website
Pere Lachaise website
“And alien tears will fill for him/ Pity’s long-broken urn,/ For his mourners will be outcast men,/ And outcasts always mourn.”
(386)
olderyoungerlover: Don Snyder; surrealism:My Dress Hangs There by Frida Kahlo, 1933. Oil on masonite, 46 x 55 cm. Hoover Gallery, San Francisco, CA; itwonlast:The Selfish Giant (Clio Barnard, 2013)
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The Selfish Giant (2013)
Oscar Wilde was wild, reblog if you agree
No poem today.
Instead, I narrate
'The Selfish Giant', by Oscar Wilde.
You'll need about 15 minutes, and a cup of tea (optional)
Watching this for the ♾️th time. It’s probably the earliest thing I can clearly remember watching on TV.
I love when the line is blurred between sound and music. Sound effects done in music like Disney’s Fantasia and Peter & the Wolf.
I like it just as much, if not more, when sound effects are used to make music, like in the background music here. This whole movie has so much to unpack.
Or better yet!
Sound waves don’t intend to be one thing or another. We can make them be music if we craft them in the correct way.
Same thing with speech. You’re just making noises and crafting them to sound like something. Just make a symphony of noises at the right frequencies to make words and play it for him. Then he can gradually put together a blend of sounds or just summon up the right frequencies to create speech.
I was today years old when I learned that Dr. Seuss wrote it.
That bit when Gerald suddenly goes BOOM and traumatizes his dad reminds me of all the things I would recite when I was a kid. Things from all of the cartoons I watched to my well loved encyclopedia.
One favorite was the Mercalli Earthquake scale. I remember coming up from the basement like
🧒🏼
“I: Not felt by people, but recorded by instruments. Animals may be uneasy. Doors may swing slowly. II: May be felt by a few people indoors, particularly those on upper floors. III: Felt indoors by some as a rapid…”
And hearing my parents just sounding like Tina Belcher going “Uhhhhhhhh…”
It feels good to make certain frequencies.
I wonder if that is why some kids scream when it seems like there is no reason.
The ending of Selfish Giant gets me every time. Somehow every time I forget it’s coming and then have to gasp and double take when I get to It again. True Christian art