19 novembre 2013

If I were built


Sono incappata per caso in una rubrica bellissima di David Foster Wallace sul TheNewYorker: "If I were built". 

Time would pass, if I were built, and Brenda and I would grow old together. One day she’d find me in my workshop in the basement, building something from strips of fragrant, fine-grained cedar. “What are you building?” she’d ask. “A coffin,” I’d say. “For both of us,” she’d say, “like we’ve always talked about?” “No,” I’d say, “for you. I’m never going to die”—and I wouldn’t: if I were built, I’d be immortal, like poetry.



If I were built, I’d host the Oscars. With arms like mine, who’d tell me I couldn’t? My arms would be the size of Seth MacFarlane’s legs, and my legs would be the size of Billy Crystal. Critics would call me unqualified, but no one would question my qualifications to my face. “Qualifications?” I’d say if anyone did, and then I’d lift up my shirt and flex my abs and say, “These are my qualifications.” 

If I were built, I’d always feel completely at ease. On first dates. At big meetings. In distant countries where I didn’t speak the language. In bed with a woman for the first time. At parties where I didn’t know anyone but the host. I’d excel at small talk, if I were built. “Nice party,” someone would say to me, for example, and I’d say to him, “Feel my abs.”
Questo è in assoluto l'articolo più spassoso :)

1 commenti:

  1. Scusa eh.... ma qual'è il significato di "If I were built"???

    Grazie in anticipo per la "english lesson" :)

    RispondiElimina



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