600 copies of Annabel Lee
For those of you not in the know, I recently suffered a tragedy of epic proportions. Some philistine hacked into my printing account on campus (or I left myself logged on in the grad lounge) and printed off 600 copies of the poem "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe. This capricious paper ejaculation would have cost me $30, but luckily the ink cartridge police rescinded the charges. Now, as I reflect on what occurred, I can't help but wonder who performed this evil deed and why.
Friends have recommended I commence an investigation. I have another idea.
Instead of using deductive reasoning and/or detection to find the perpetrator, I will employ my skills as a careful reader to assign motive, means, and opportunity. My contention is, in short, that the identity of my foe is embedded in the text of "Annabel Lee," which the offending party almost certainly selected based on a Freudian manifestation of vitriolic loathing.
Poe states, "It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea, / That a maiden there" ... printed 600 copies of this poem. Thus we can conclude, with some assurance, that the offending agent was in fact a woman who had a crush on me some years passed and printed off the text in question as a direct reference to that crush. I clearly knew her when I lived on the east coast, as "the kingdom by the sea" might seem to indicate.
Moving on in the poem, Poe indicates, "The angels, not half so happy in heaven, / Went envying her and me." These lines seem an indisputable reference to my churchgoing days, circa 1989. I attended Sunday school as a nine-year-old, and clearly some woman (possibly my Sunday school teacher) coveted a secret obsession for my waifish form.
Finally, Poe suggests, "the moon never beams without bringing me dreams" of the person who printed off 600 copies of "Annabel Lee" on my account. This line strikes me as classic Poe, shrouded in intrigue yet clearly constructed to make overt reference to a young woman I used to go to church with, whom I mooned one night in the early nineties. This woman, linked to me through clear romantic pretensions, apparently took my gesture as a refutation of her love. Then, for the next 17 years, she wove a plot so clever, so diabolical, that only a student of literature could unshroud it.
Also, I'm not sure how, but I think I may have accidentally proven that Edgar Allan Poe was gay...
Friends have recommended I commence an investigation. I have another idea.
Instead of using deductive reasoning and/or detection to find the perpetrator, I will employ my skills as a careful reader to assign motive, means, and opportunity. My contention is, in short, that the identity of my foe is embedded in the text of "Annabel Lee," which the offending party almost certainly selected based on a Freudian manifestation of vitriolic loathing.
Poe states, "It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea, / That a maiden there" ... printed 600 copies of this poem. Thus we can conclude, with some assurance, that the offending agent was in fact a woman who had a crush on me some years passed and printed off the text in question as a direct reference to that crush. I clearly knew her when I lived on the east coast, as "the kingdom by the sea" might seem to indicate.
Moving on in the poem, Poe indicates, "The angels, not half so happy in heaven, / Went envying her and me." These lines seem an indisputable reference to my churchgoing days, circa 1989. I attended Sunday school as a nine-year-old, and clearly some woman (possibly my Sunday school teacher) coveted a secret obsession for my waifish form.
Finally, Poe suggests, "the moon never beams without bringing me dreams" of the person who printed off 600 copies of "Annabel Lee" on my account. This line strikes me as classic Poe, shrouded in intrigue yet clearly constructed to make overt reference to a young woman I used to go to church with, whom I mooned one night in the early nineties. This woman, linked to me through clear romantic pretensions, apparently took my gesture as a refutation of her love. Then, for the next 17 years, she wove a plot so clever, so diabolical, that only a student of literature could unshroud it.
Also, I'm not sure how, but I think I may have accidentally proven that Edgar Allan Poe was gay...
posted by Matt Lavin
at
9:21 PM
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