Monday, February 13, 2006

..on threading a needle with boxing gloves...





..he was thinking of time and change, of how, one morning when he must have been quite small, he had discovered time, lying in the grass with his eyes closed against the sun. He was counting to himself. He counted up to 60, and thought: That is a minute. Then he thought: It will never be that minute again. It will never be today again. Never.


The merry go round in the sea, Randolph Stow





Maya: You know, can I ask you a personal question, Miles?
Miles Raymond: Sure.
Maya: Why are you so in to Pinot?
[laughs softly] Miles Raymond:
Maya: I mean, it's like a thing with you.
[continues laughing softly] Miles Raymond:
Miles Raymond: Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.


Sideways, 2004




..So, yes, he permitted her to cook for him and to hold him, to take him for walks. He never permitted himself to tell her the lie she wanted to hear more than any poetry or prose. Despite this, she kept him going anyway, single-handedly, at least until I earned his trust.
One afternoon in bed, after a walk, she asked him how he could be so sure that he did not love her. Was she brave or stupid, do you think? Can you imagine you asking a question like that? Simon said that he did love her and that she should know it, but that he was not in love with her. You can forgive her, under the circumstances, for thinking he was off on another semantic frolic of his own. If he hadn't been so forthcoming she might have taken comfort in the ambiguity.
" In spite of all that i unfortunately am now, or more accurately all that i am not, I am still far too cautious, too careful with you, to be in love with you. That's how i know, i suppose," he told her.

Seven types of ambiguity, Elliot Perlman







Click here to watch..

je t'aime moi non plus...
long live Serge

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

like stars in my hand..





People have stars, but they aren't the same. For travelers, the stars are guides. For other people, they're nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they're problems. For my businessman, they were gold. But all those stars are silent stars. You, though, you'll have stars like nobody else."
"What do you mean?"
"When you look up at the sky at night, since I'll be living on one of them, since I'll be laughing on one of them, for you, it'll be as if all the stars are laughing. You'll have stars that can laugh!"
And he laughed again.
"And when you're consoled (everyone is eventually consoled), you'll be glad you've known me. You'll always be my friend. You'll feel like laughing with me. And you'll open your windows sometimes just for the fun of it... And your friends will be amazed to see you laughing while you're looking up at the sky. Then you'll tell them, 'Yes, it's the stars. They always make me laugh!" "


Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le petit prince







...There was a warm breeze and a salty kind of smell, and i could feel my sadness and , i guess, despair blowing off of me. People that you love can lift you and confuse you. Understanding them doesn't seem so important when they're inside your head. That's why love should be easy. I guess it is. I just don't know.

Ron McClarty, The Memory of running








It may be said that, in some sense, we create our own reality through the way we choose to perceive the external world and like anything that is created or constructed, it can collapse. Does this mean anything to you? You think you are happily married and then you discover that you aren't. Your whole perception of the outside world, as it pertains to you, just suddenly collapses. This is terrifying because our perception of ourselves in the outside world and our sense of self are the same thing. What was Simon in the world but a young man getting older on a couch, without a job, running out of time, running out of scotch, with all the cruelty of unrealised potential, and the bitter aftertaste of misplaced hope.


Seven types of ambiguity, Elliot Perlman