2006
There is no greater relief than being able to laugh with someone who matters about the terrible things inside us and in life in general. There is no greater calm than being with someone who values innocence.
“Pensou de repente com paixão: “Teria sido meu. Embora idiota, disforme, teria sido meu!” Mas esse desejo secreto, essa obscura afirmação, eram tão solitários, tão inconfessáveis, era preciso escondê-los a tanta gente, que se sentiu repentinamente culpada e teve horror a si própria.”
Jean-Paul Sartre, The Age of Reason
“Jeanne: You know, he and l, we make love.
Paul: Oh, really? That’s wonderful. Is he a good fucker?
Jeanne: Magnificent.
Paul: You know, you’re a jerk. Cos the best fucking you’re gonna get is right here in this apartment. Stand up.
Jeanne: He is full of mysteries.
Paul: Listen, you dumb dodo. All the mysteries that you’re ever gonna know in life are right here.
Jeanne: He is like everybody but… at the same time he’s different.
Paul: You mean, like everybody.
Jeanne: Yeah, but… even he fright me. Even he frightens me.
Paul: What is he, your local pimp?
Jeanne: He could be. He looks it. You know why I’m in love with him?
Paul: I can’t wait.
Jeanne: Because he know. He know how to make me fall in love with him.
Paul: You want this man you love to protect and take care of you.
Jeanne: Yeah.
Paul: You want this golden, shining, powerful warrior to build a fortress where you can hide in. So you don’t have to ever… have… You don’t ever have to be afraid. You don’t have to feel lonely or empty. That’s what you want, isn’t it?
Jeanne: Yes.
Paul: Well, you’ll never find it.
Jeanne: But I find this man.
Paul: Then it won’t be long until he’ll want you to build a fortress for him out of your tits and your cunt and your hair and your smile and the way you smell. And… and some place where he can
feel comfortable and secure enough so that he can worship in front of the altar of his own prick.Jeanne: But I find this man!
Paul: No, you’re alone. You’re all alone. You won’t be free of that feeling of being alone until you look death right in the face. I mean, that sounds like bullshit, some romantic crap, until you go right up into the ass of death. Right up in his ass… till you find the womb of fear. And then,… maybe… Maybe then, you’ll be able to find him.
Jeanne: But I find this man. He’s you! You are that man!
”
“Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.”
Jane Wagner
“Daniel: We belong together, Jones. Me, you. Poor little skirt. If I can’t make it with you… I can’t make it with anyone.
Bridget: Um… That’s not a good enough offer for me. I’m not willing to gamble my whole life on someone who’s, well, not quite sure. It’s like you said. I’m still looking for something more extraordinary than that.
”
Poison
The poison I take wishing someone else was dead.
I have this friend, you see. A best friend. One of the most important people in my life. And she, ages ago, was a character on a video clip. And the video clip had a few seconds of this song. I’ve never heard the whole song. But I heard the chorus. A girl, howling.
The poison I take wishing someone else was dead.
And today I found it again, lost between my notes. And the song still rings in my ears, but the feeling is hopefully all gone. I take no more poison because I wish no one dead. I drink water and honey to invite in all the good things I see in my dreams. I eat flowers and fruits to be able to close my eyes and see all the color and all the beauty.
And I remember what it was like to take the poison wishing someone was dead.
Locked
Queen Elizabeth I used to get ill at the most convenient moments, like when her big sister Mary wanted her in London for questioning, looking for proof of treason. It was not a fake illness, but it was indeed very convenient.
There are many theories on psychologically-induced illness. But none of them please me as much as the secret smile I created for the Elizabeth I created on my mind. Being ill is always inconvenient, not matter how much one needs to rest.
There’s a sort of surrealism to staying locked indoors for more than a few days. I’ve been indoors for weeks. And then I take a cab for my one hour outside. I look at the city and it doesn’t look back at me.
And in two days, everything will be back to the possibilities I had before. But also everything will be different.
“At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, it’s usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we’ve chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them. The people that are still with you at the end of the day, those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.”
Grey’s Anatomy (5.20) (via sheslostcontroll)
Hypothesis
Let’s say, for instance, that there is this girl. And let’s say she’s confused about this guy. And let’s say she’s having trouble reaching out to him.
He lives up on a mountain, where the wind always blows. So when she calls it is difficult to hear and he gets it all wrong.
And let’s say there was this storm between the mountain and the plain. It lasted for days, creating a wide river that neither she nor he can cross.
And let’s finally say that they are shouting to each other across the river, but only a few loose words manage to reach the shores.
Who is right? Let’s say it is a matter of point of view.
P., the second
I could not believe when I saw what seemed your smiling face looking out of the computer into me, again, after all these years. You look exactly like you used to, just different hair. The handsome face as childish as it used to look, the rosy cheeks on a man’s body this time. And then there were our brief emails and the certainty that I have no idea who you are anymore.
It is a strange feeling to be sure you no longer know anything about that person you used to love so much. For 13 years you’ve been one of the sweetest memories I had, maybe the most romantic.
And now you are within my reach. Sort of. I suppose I expected more heart in our reunion. I confess I’d created this fantasy in which we’d find out we have so much in common as adults that we’d become close friends, distant countries and all. We’d talk about our winter days together, life, the universe and everything. But I did not expect you or me to feel again the enfatuation that used to paralyze me.
Maybe I’m just sentimental that way. You’ll always be in my heart as the sweetest boy ever to walk into a poorly decorated Pizza Hut branch in Lewisham. Oh, how you made me blush while you taught me sweet words in your native language. And how I smiled inward while we walked hand in hand through Chinatown.
And maybe that’s how you should stay: under 20, with mad flowing hair and that tricky boyish smile walking by my side on New Year’s Eve. I’ll be seeing you.
“And yet how are you to know,” he will say, “either who produced a discourse, or anything else whatsoever, beautifully, or not, when you are ignorant of the beautiful ? And when you are in such a condition, do you think it is better for you to be alive than dead ?” So it has come about, as I say, that I am abused and reviled by you and by him. But perhaps it is necessary to endure all this, for it is quite reasonable that I might be benefited by it. So I think, Hippias, that I have been benefited by conversation with both of you ; for I think I know the meaning of the proverb “beautiful things are difficult”.”
Socrates, stolen from here
Beautiful things are difficult.
If...
If we could talk.
If you could listen.
If I could understand.
If we could touch without hurting.
Today, I know, I twist and turn and walk around with you in my heart. You who I so desperately want to remove. You who removed me so well, so quickly, but who can still act right by me sometimes. You who threw my head on the dirt today while shouting on my ears. You who hurt me and I don’t know why. You who feels I hurt you and you don’t know why.
It is all wrong, all broken. And it’s been wrong for so many hours and days and weeks that I feel hopeless today. If only we could…
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