Fragment #1

Danas mi je neko rekao da samopoštovanje nije isto što i voljeti sebe, i kako je mnogo bitnije razvijati ovo drugo uz to da ovog prvog mora imati u nekoj pristojnoj količini. I kako nas mi sami možemo izdati, iznevjeriti, pokleknuti pred sopstvenim idealima i tako uništiti sebi sliku o nama, skotrljati i nas i nju u ambis svih ljudi propalih u dostojanstvo i njegovo tonjenje. Ali kako nam ljubav prema nama to nikad neće uraditi.Kad voliš nekoga bezuslovno uvjek tražiš način da mu pomogneš i nađeš razumijevanja za njegovu čojstvenost, kad nekoga voliš uslovno od toga je li moralno istančan, bistar ili obrazovan, svako odstupanje od istih osobina bi značilo jedna doza manje tvoje ljubavi.

[...]

"Ja između dva sata, jedan kasni drugi žuri."

Mrzim te. I dalje si mi asocijacija na sve ljubavne pjesme. I te pjesme me bole dok ih čitam, i nečija hladna ruka mi stiska srce obmotano hladnoćom njenog dlana. Tužno je kad čovjek ne može da se oporavi od uspomena. Nadrasteš ljude, al ne nadrasteš sebe i tu malu klinku krupnih očiju i neobičnog pogleda koja i dalje slijepo vjeruje u svaku tvoju napumpanu riječ. Ona je još unutra negdje, i još je sve boli, i još se trese od plača. Ali ja sam dobro. Uglavnom. Sinu mi ponekad sve riječi koje si mi uputio i knedla mi se digne u grlo kao klikom na dugme. Neke su riječi fantazmagorične, bajkovite, toliko precizno iskrojene kao da si mi čitao misli i znao tačno što bih lično ja htjela da čujem a da možda nisam ni znala da baš to želim, neke su kao vazduh bičem prerezan i njegova bol. Ne volim te. Ne volim tebe. Volim njega, a ona ga voli još više. Volim njega koji si ti nekad bio dok te je ta klinka voljela. A ona te voli i dalje. I lijepo je nekako kad znaš da u sebi i dalje imaš nešto što beskrajno voli. U čemu su živi svi poljupci u rupicu u obrazu, sva hemija koja veže dvoje ljudi kanapima čak i kada su na krajevima prostorije, sva ljubav u pogledu, sva sveobuhvatajuća zaljubljenost u tebe. Jer da je ona potpuno umrla, umrla bih i ja sa njom. To bi bilo kao da normalnom čovjeku odsiječeš jedan jednako velik dio tijela, recimo čitavu nogu, ili stomak. Iskrvario bi, a i da preživi bio bi osakaćen da normalno funkcioniše više ikada. Pa ja lično smatram da ne bih preživjela, jer njušim miris rane u meni, koja se nastanila kao tumor i ne zarasta, ali mislim da ništa ne fali, da su svi komadi mesa tu. I mislim da me bode unutra ona, da me ubada da krvarim, ona koja i dalje voli tebe, njega. Pokušala sam da nas upoznam opet. Znaš da jesam. Ali ona te nije prepoznala, izgleda da njega stvarno previše voli. Ja sam se ogradila, zastranila, preboljela... ne znam. Ali nisam mogla da te osjetim. Osim neke sitne infantilne nježnosti zagrljaja, svaki pulsirajući dodir tvojih nabreklih žila mi je bio odbojan, i u nijednoj sekundi nije ni sekund vatre u meni mogao da se uždi, a pokušavala sam. Kako to reče Vranjković Ja između dva sata jedan kasni drugi žuri. Meni si oba sata ti, i oba sata sam ja.

Seks

Da li ste znali da je moguće imati seksualne odnose sa osobom koja vam je jedini znani intelektualni i dijelom (većim nego bilo ko drugi) emocionalni parnjak i apsolutno ne osjetiti ništa, štaviše upražnjavati ga zamalo mehanički bez ikakvog pravog žara samom osobom osim time što se ona loži pred mojim sopstvenim očima i samog čina seksa?

You taste like a room filled with second hand smoke, tears and bubblegum toothpaste.

Samo prazan tekst.
(Čitaj razočaranje, čitaj melanholija, čitaj uspomena)

A love is not a victory march

Osluškivala sam petarde napolju prije nego što sam shvatila da je to strašni zvuk mojih nozdrva i njihove velike bivolje pare. Čemu ti uzdasi, ne znam.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

O muzici #2

• Čovjek iza ovog perfektnog spota je niko drugi do režiser Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  Hail Michel Gondry!

O muzici #1

Možda i dalje najljepše izvođenje u postojanju.

It's easy to see without looking too far

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you'd just be one more
Person crying

Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

exulansis

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

Altschmerz

n. weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

Q: On the awareness that you’re happy

“What was the term for consciously being aware that you’re happy and therefor becoming unhappy?” –Anonymous

kairosclerosis

n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.

Kairosclerosis is from the Greek: kairos, "the opportune moment” + sclerosis, “hardening.” The Ancient Greeks had two words for time, chronos and kairos. Chronos is quantitative and linear—the ticking of the Western clock. Kairos is more qualitative, referring to moments that are indeterminate and sublime, when something special happens, when god speaks or the wind shifts, when a door is left open between one minute and the next. 

This definition is why I ain’t writing The Dictionary of Obscure Pleasures. In my experience, moments of joy tend to die on the examination table. Kurt Vonnegut liked to say, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” I think the opposite is true. Notice when you’re sad, and dive in and wallow and examine it and pick it apart with forceps and calipers. The sadness will lose its vitality and harden over time into something benign and foreign, like an emotional fossil.

nighthawk

n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

adronitis

n. frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.

rigor samsa

n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.

yù yī - 玉衣  n. the desire to see with fresh eyes, and feel things just as intensely as you did when you were younger—before expectations, before memory, before words.

you reject your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism

The Grinch:
All right, you're a reindeer. Here's your motivation: Your name is Rudolph, you're a freak with a red nose, and no one likes you. Then, one day, Santa picks you and you save Christmas. No, forget that part. We'll improvise... just keep it kind of loosey-goosey. You HATE Christmas, you're gonna steal it. Saving Christmas is a lousy ending; way too commercial. ACTION.

(Max knocks off the nose)

The Grinch:
BRILLIANT. You reject your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism. Why didn't I think of that? Cut, print, moving on.