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2006-01-26 - 8:21 a.m. My Life as a Eunuch OLD LADY. Unconscious though I was, I felt myself oppressed beneath the weight of a massive body. My eyelids flickered open to reveal, straddled upon me, a gigantic white man of modest appearance and bearing. And, as his lips met mine, he gave the most heartfelt sigh . . . CANDIDE. A sigh? OLD LADY. He moaned, he muttered between his teeth and then, tears streaming from his eyes � they were blue � he spoke. CANDIDE. What did he say? OLD LADY. He said: How frustrating at this moment to be a eunuch! from libretto to Bernstein's Candide, after Voltaire* Now, I'm obviously painting a dire and hyperbolic picture with an analogy like this, but sometimes � sometimes � living in Santa Barbara feels like I've been given the task of chastely guarding the seraglio. Noli me tangere, these boys and men with their heavy-lidded eyes seem to coo, their lips nonchalantly curled into a half-sneer, not menacing but taunting. Oh, and they're just everywhere. It may finally be time to start making a plan to get out of this town. Or at least start looking in earnest for a huzzband. *original text: "Thus I lay in a state of weakness and insensibility between life and death, when I felt myself pressed by something that moved up and down upon my body. This brought me to myself. I opened my eyes, and saw a pretty fair-faced man, who sighed and muttered these words between his teeth, 'O che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni!'"
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