J'a decouvert quelque chose terrible. C'est qu'on peu aimer quelq'un qu'on méprises, dont on déteste chaque geste, chaque parôle, chaque pensé...

You and I

This is painfully relevant to my current situation. A great song, but bittersweet for sure.

M.

Director's Cut

It is amazing to me, still, that I can go on living life under the impression that any of its elements can perhaps emulate the story of a good movie or book. I am constantly disappointed by the inaccuracy of reality - by its sheer denial to cater to every one of my emotional whims.

I go through the days setting up moments, envisioning results, and being gutted by the perseverance of deception. And though I try my best to fault anyone or anything, the glaring truth is that there is no one person or thing to blame for my stubbornly nebulous view of life.

It's fitting, then, that the one underlying emotion is inevitably anger. Downright rage, sometimes. The result of pouring so much energy into something so unreliable as a personal intimate relationship can already be dangerously unpredictable. To put that much feeling into something with a preconceived Hollywoodian outcome is downright crazy.

Cut.

M

On the Internet...

I saw this picture of a girl once. She looked beautiful, like a movie star. Like one of those people who would be called beautiful no matter what decade they lived in. But she also looks recent, fresh. Like someone who lives today and couldn't have lived in any other time or she wouldn't be her.

You tend to do this, on the internet. Look at other people. People you don't know, but maybe someone who you know does, and you simply pick their face out of a list, or a grid.

I've actually interacted with her, online of course. But then you realize, as you are doing it, how far away you really are.

In any case, she didn't know it was me. She doesn't know who I am. Anonymity is blissful but it is also depressing.

She remains beautiful, and I still look at her picture once in a while. Some years ago I would have never seen it. But If I had seen her, maybe she would know who I am.

M.

You can always go back to what you love.

I didn't use to laugh at TV Shows...

...unless they were really, truly funny. I do it way more often now. Maybe it's a product of living alone, and being awake into the late (some say early) hours.

I think that's a problem, though, because it means that I am becoming banal. It means that I am de-valuing yet another one of the things I used to hold in highest regard: Good comedy, or even better, unintentional comedic situations.

I still hold that my sensibility to certain events is intact, but the protective shield of condescendence that I held around it has cracked with every laugh I would previously have thought undeserved.

Maybe I will become a more normal person to be around, because of this detriment. But I am not very happy at the effect it has upon my already warped self-image.

M.

Career Choice...

The most liberating job in the world is that of the Compulsive Liar.

M.