Her Big Fearless Self
Friday Ephemera

Doing Drama

I wasn’t previously familiar with Rosanna Arquette, an “actress, poet and activist,” but goodness, she puts on a show:

Her shame is as deep as her swimming pool.

But then, this isn’t her first rodeo:

Rosanna has been unwell for some time.

It’s an existential shame, apparently:

Rosanna and her existence.

So, are we witnessing a kind of neurotic contagion in which those so gripped believe such things, and spend their days agonised and weepy, or a kind of neurotic contagion in which they feel compelled to pretend such things, thereby asserting some elevated status? A kind of, “I am better than you because I pretend to feel worse.” And if the latter, is that significantly saner?

Via Neontaster.