"People." | LOH #240

I live too much inside a fantasy to much go in for fantasy, if that makes sense. So when I first saw the question for this week's Ladies of Hive, I initially put it aside as not being my cup of tea.

If you could invite any five people, living or dead, to a dinner party, who would they be?

I don't normally go in for such games, I don't know why, and yet I found myself toying with it a bit inside my head as the week progressed, so I figured, before the bell's over, I might as well.

Gathering.

You'll notice my list is made up only of famous people. That's because if I had to choose a dinner to prep, say, from now to Sunday or next week, or next year, a real proper meal made of plates, it would really just be ordinary people I love. Some of my best memories (made and yet to come) are sitting on ordinary, banal days with ordinary, banal people. My people. There'd be a couple revivals, but mostly, my ideal dinner is with the people who are in my life - and what tremendous fortune that is.

Big Lights Dinner

Of the people who are well-known, or known at all or somebody in this world full of somebodies, there's a few I'd cook for (and not poison).

1. Roger.

Hands down. Easily. Though Rog is one of those people who feel like five at least. For the music, sure, but more so for the way his soul shines in everything he does. His love for humanity and pursuit for justice that is, to me, sadly unparalleled in this crazy little world. I've always tried to take a cue from this man, and been reminded, often, that just because you think the right's full of scumbags, that doesn't mean siding with the left. That we're all on the same side, the human side, and that in itself is the thing most worth pursuing in this life.

That you can stand for what is right and what is true, without allowing ideology to pervert your aim.

I keep listening to this. Remembering this. Wishing I could say thank you for making grief something even remotely acceptable.

2. Egon.

I first came to Egon's work from a much askew angle. He's often known for his somewhat sinister, somewhat graphic nudes, and I suppose at the time of first encountering him, I must've had a somewhat sinister, graphic understanding of my own naked body. But then, my understanding of him broadened. I saw he was so much more than those fantastic, isolated naked bodies. As, perhaps, was I. I would love to sit with him and talk of what it is to be an artist in times of war, something I struggle to understand, still. And what it is, the tragedy of wanting desperately, to be builing on love. What it is to turn from this infinite finite universe that's inside you and to the exponentially larger, wealthier outlook of living for other people, which you can say Egon was just beginning to when he so unfairly died, at 28.

3. Lionel.

The token lady at my table. Maybe where my real life is brimming with fantastic women, my fantasy tables are all filled with men. Anyway, Lionel Shriver wears the name of a boy (by choice), and is easily one of my favorite contemporary writers. Rarely do you run into someone with such keen insight about the human psyche. She's one of the very few people who manages to leave me starstruck even with the occasional political piece I might disagree with, and anyone with such superb reasoning is worth an evening of your life at least.

4. Nick.

I mean, come on. I think Mr. Cave deserves his own separate evening, also. I read recently an interview with him and the interviewer was saying Cave's a sort of icon, an example of masculinity in this world. A role model for boys. And Cave was taken aback, but I thought, wouldn't it be a good thing, though?
I'd like to sit inside a small, round nook with Mr. Cave and talk over religion and death, but only as a segway into this miraculous abundance of life all around us. Preferably over nice scotch.

5. Marion.

I changed my mind. It was gonna be 4 boys and 1 lady. Now, I'm evening the odds. I'm trading my beloved Dylan for Marion Woodman. Because I realize, crucially, desperately, how vital it is to integrate and to learn to be at peace with my own femininity, to what it means to be a woman and dance in the flames, and have a rounded belly, and be more than just a desirer of men. The older I get, the more I understand I can't spend all my life under the sway of charming, belligerent men.

It's a very long dinner. I could sit listening to all of these people for hours and hours. But what's the night for, if not talking the hours away?

And maybe, if I'm lucky, Dylan Thomas will sneak in after midnight. Just to listen to that bellow-of-the-valleys voice of his, you know? That rich, fat Welshness. Those little-boy eyes swimming in fumes while he tried his luck. And was often successful, too. But really, beyond all the more salacious aspects of his persona, Thomas was a boundless treasure trove of poetry and knowledge. He had such understanding of form, such love for writing, and literally everything relating to it.

I wanted to do one of these, also, with Hive people, but then realized if I had a hard time with famous people, this would be impossible. So many fantastic people, too many to mention, on here. And what a lucky little speck am I, to be here.

Who would you have? And if you're a lady, why not try your luck, and write your own entry for the contest? It's not over just yet. And if you do, make sure to give a shout, as I'd be delighted to read.