nostalgia rec #9: POEM (Frank O'Hara & Edward Gorey)
From 2009: POEM (1056 words) by ishafel
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: RPF - 20th-21st c Arts and Sciences
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Frank O'Hara, Edward Gorey
Summary:
Frank and Ted's excellent adventure. 1948
What it says on the tin. I basically start making squeaking noises every time I reread the opening:
Listen, Ted. Enough. Enough with the alphabet already. We believe that you know it. Friday night, six inches of snow. (But that's CAMBRIDGE IN DECEMBER.)
There has to be a party somewhere. Something that doesn't involve tiny detailed black and white drawings of people who don't actually exist.
And then Frank doesn't shut up, and I imagine Ted burrowing deeper and deeper into a gigantic Edwardian fur coat, and it's just glorious, and only a bejeweled slice of fruitcake with a mug of good coffee could make the rereading better.
(Also, I miss Boston. Friends live there; friends of friends are moving there; I dreamed of some of those friends two nights ago, and had planned to see them two years ago, but now it's looking like it will be another two years before the stars miiiiight align. Which is better than never again, but still.) This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/428077.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: RPF - 20th-21st c Arts and Sciences
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Frank O'Hara, Edward Gorey
Summary:
Frank and Ted's excellent adventure. 1948
What it says on the tin. I basically start making squeaking noises every time I reread the opening:
Listen, Ted. Enough. Enough with the alphabet already. We believe that you know it. Friday night, six inches of snow. (But that's CAMBRIDGE IN DECEMBER.)
There has to be a party somewhere. Something that doesn't involve tiny detailed black and white drawings of people who don't actually exist.
And then Frank doesn't shut up, and I imagine Ted burrowing deeper and deeper into a gigantic Edwardian fur coat, and it's just glorious, and only a bejeweled slice of fruitcake with a mug of good coffee could make the rereading better.
(Also, I miss Boston. Friends live there; friends of friends are moving there; I dreamed of some of those friends two nights ago, and had planned to see them two years ago, but now it's looking like it will be another two years before the stars miiiiight align. Which is better than never again, but still.) This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/428077.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.