Saturday, February 27, 2010


Thank you Ryam Idriss. Very good film, but then again – this post is obviously not about it, but once upon a Camel ™ or two ... here we go.

You see, I don’t get what people still don’t get about relationships with other people. I am not a pro, so technically I know nothing, but the things in my head – still in their majority unpracticed – are worth sharing, walla. We are not meant for each other. There is no significant other, nor an ever after – hence, a happy permanence does not exist. We change, each in different rates. Yet still, we skip into trots of naiveté ..into assemblies with others, matrimonies they call them, holy – oh yes, we must gullibly decide to compromise ourselves to the duality of nature, and bite our/each others’ lips for comfort.

If we must make sense out of all of this, I would be more prone to go with the school of temporary indulgence. This, online, would be called swinging. This is not what I am talking about. I am talking of intersections, the ones that don’t have to be thought of – the ones that happen, and make you smile involuntarily at the situation, internally blushing at how childish it feels – how helpless – the ones that happen for a while, because they can’t unhappen – not because they ought to. As we fuck, we learn; as we look at each other, we’ll learn some more. We could talk, we could sing and throw dinner parties – to cook, to feed other people what we think we made up.. tastes of sours and chocolates.. that we know amuse us. We both know, that we would get bored. But we would not think it, yet when it happens, we would have sufficed, we would have learned, we could want other things ..then we would kiss and our bodies would part. But you would always be me and me you. I don’t know why we treat books differently. Or, better said, I don’t know why we treat each other any different than how we treat our books. I mean, you never forgot what you felt when Nietzsche told you what Zarathustra spoke… or when. You still remember the seven dwarfs, the three musketeers, Leila and her wolf. You are not constantly cumming over every page then, looking into their letters waiting for them to prove to you that you ARE the best lover ever ever ever.. ever, please please – oh, no you don’t beg, but in your head – you do. So why will we break up, ever. Why don’t we just walk each other past things, constantly act negligent so we would discover more. I am not punctuating this, because this is not a question, and you will not answer. Because I think we are past that, me and you, we are in this point now, where we are supposed to just smile and wave… smile and waive our rights to smile and kiss, for no reason. It’s sad.

Disassociated Leitmotif(s) Press © 2010

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