What should we do about Alice? Who is Alice? Am I talking about Alice Roosevelt or Alice in Wonderland?
You can’t trust those Alice’s. They are either eating up the world or going down rabbit holes. They are always bucking the conventions of the day or drowning in a pool of their own tears.
Such was the case of the Alice I once knew as well. She was a lively one. Very vigorous. We met at a show and it was a rather plain meeting, at the first.
As the night went on, I noticed that she was rather animated and fun, with an energetic and cheerful laugh, even boisterous, if you will. So began our friendship and adventures where we whisked ourselves from party to party, wine and dine, and pine and shine.
Twas a fateful night. The night I met Alice. Even more pronounced was the memory of having met earlier in life, when she was a young lass, still rather gangly.
Oh the pranks that Alice liked to play. She once snapped a foto of me and attached it to her head. She then proceeded to roam around town proclaiming that she was me. She received many laughs and mine own as well.
Oh, but she could be as stubborn as a mule. I once tried to get her to go to a performance of the late great Johann Enich Ulgrish. She had previously known the composer on more intimate terms and felt so constrained at the thought of merely sitting in on the performance, regardless of Johann’s ignorance of our presence in the crowd, that she swore never to speak to me again should I press the matter further.
It was nice knowing Alice. What a performance by Johann.
