Has always struck me, despite its pronounal & gender ambiguity (famous B&S traits), as another of Stuart's great internal inquisitions - an inwardly aimed disappointed skewering that once again asks if he has gone too far. The will to solitude and its hazards, his perennial topic, this time with a reasonably explicit gloss of autoerotic imagery: the mess, `I can't dance,' the scrubbing, the flashlight & fashion magazine, the absence of the benefits of being alive.
Has always struck me, despite its pronounal & gender ambiguity (famous B&S traits), as another of Stuart's great internal inquisitions - an inwardly aimed disappointed skewering that once again asks if he has gone too far. The will to solitude and its hazards, his perennial topic, this time with a reasonably explicit gloss of autoerotic imagery: the mess, `I can't dance,' the scrubbing, the flashlight & fashion magazine, the absence of the benefits of being alive.