Last night I had a dream I was in the Christopher Marlowe play Tamburlaine The Great. And I'm afraid that makes me a nerd.
Yaaarrrghh! Shiver me timbers! I be Tamburlaine, me matey!
For non-nerds, Tamburlaine was this play written in the late 1500s about this power-hungry guy who goes on a rampage, conquering town after town and king after king (even making dethroned rulers wear saddles and pull his chariot - the very notion!). He eventually takes over half of Asia on little more than moxie, and eventually dies either due to his excesses or because a God kills him or something. By the way, I have a theory that Scarface is based on Tamburlaine. It's a very similar story.
Take a look...at Tamburlaine. Err, at The Bad Guy.
Anyway, in the dream I was one of the subjects in a village Tamburlaine conquered, and everyone was yelling at me that I must join his army or die.
"You must join with Tamburlaine!" said the nerdy villager in my nerdy dream. But I was frozen - frozen with indecision. And then - the lights went dim. I then started dreaming about playing for the Lakers, or Maria Menounos, or something much less nerdy. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm glad Christopher Marlowe got overshadowed in the history books by his contemporary William Shakespeare, by the way. It sounds like he was a prick. He died young in a drunken brawl, when some guy stabbed him in the eye!
This is Marlowe. Doesn't he look like the kind of guy you'd want to stab, after he flirts with your girlfriend right in front of you at a party, like you weren't even there, then asks you for a cigarette, and you say "but it's my last one," and he shrugs his shoulders and takes it anyway? And he gets really drunk and breaks the toilet somehow, but doesn't say sorry?
And since it was the 1500s, I bet the knife that killed him totally wasn't sanitary. But even now, Marlowe haunts me in my slumbers, as his creation Tamburlaine wreaks havoc on all! Why did I post this blog again?