Maybe I'm just a drone for theatrical lighting, but why then do I find myself always balancing from the O'H' horizon—perhaps adjective-objective pile-up and smut and to place my noticeable nose (ears, too) into the historical aspects of such "roundness", that even when I've pranced around after a Betty Davis or Veronica Lake showing, I either become pillar-like erosional remnants, or one who sits and flips thru the end-credits to see if I can find any familiar names that may ring a bell? (if you're reading this Gene Wilder, perhaps I could have hot soup poured on me and get my thumb lit on fire!) - "Touch the iron, touch the iron", said the sneaky snake to the 4 year old! . . .
Verbiage, from an unknown play in ACT III [Monmouth College]:
#1: Yes, of course. If I’d wanted to be a dancer, like Loie Fuller intends to be, I’d have studied French.
#2: Loie’s just a child; she’s what, three years old? How can you even talk about her?
#3: She lives right across the street. Everybody knows how wild Loie is about dancing. (Optional: to have an appropriate child dance across the edge of the stage; note: Loie Fuller invented modern dance; she was the rage of Paris around 1900.)
#2 (almost pouting) Monmouth College students don’t dance. (With a smile) Or they aren’t supposed to. But I know some who do. Sin or no sin, I like dance music.
#3: Loie’s dancing isn’t sinful. She doesn’t touch anybody. (Waves arms) Just goes round and round, with her silk scarves fluttering in the air. (Demonstrates) And jumping!
#2: I don’t see how that would be any fun.
#1: Well, she does. All she talks about is Paris. One can dance there, she says, even dance the way she wants to.
#3: What’s the point? Who takes a child seriously? Besides, no one with a name like Loie Fuller can be famous. Besides, it’s not as though a future president was living right down the street. (note: Ronald Reagan lived a block from campus when he was in grade school.)