“Positive and negative. You’re a bit, aren’t you?”
“You could use a cup of my famous java.”
It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
But there’s something about us I want to say
Cause there’s something between us anywayI might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
But there’s something about us I’ve got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with youI need you more than anything in my life
Something About Us - Daft Punk
I want you more than anything in my life
I miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life
- June 24
- , 2011
“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”
Rosemarie Urquico (via whereyoucanstillrememberdreams)(via julieheartsbooks)
I wish. I wish more than anything, but I can’t imagine you with all your complexity, all your perfection, all your imperfection. Look at you. You’re just a shade. You’re just a shade of my real wife. And you were the best that I could do, but I’m sorry, you’re just not good enough.
Dom Cobb
- March 22
- , 2011
If you have not played Braid, this post is irrelevant to you. Go play it and become relevant. No form of media has ever encapsulated my emotions so well. The scenes portrayed in the jigsaw puzzles, especially. Notice always how he seems so distressed, so longing, always searching, drowned senseless by a feeling of unrequited love, how there’s always a girl in the background, fleeting, but he never seems to notice her because he’s only in love with the idea of her and not her herself? He’s so convinced that he’ll never find her and that even if he did, he could never show her just how much she means to him, how truly he is in love with her. It hurts him so much that just in order to survive, he’s created an idea of her that overpowers him and drives his every move, shapes his life and the direction it takes. He fashions himself to be whatever she could possibly desire, his own previous motivations now rendered senseless in light of new darkness, deprived of ever actually being in love. He’s so misguided, so delusional, he’s in love with the idea of falling in love itself, but has never been given the chance to fall in love with her to begin with. Because he’s no longer interested in the affairs of the world, everyone else will gain interest in him because they can never know his secrets, his true motivations, the true machinations of his mind. He’ll have all the chances in the world to fall in love with every other girl who wants so much to be the girl he pines for, but none, save one, could ever actualise to his idealisation. These motivations to be somehow be one day her significant other have driven him to be so well-sculpted a man that would attract the desires of countless other girls that he simply brushes them off, although each one wonderful and gems in their own right, he could never bring himself to appreciate them, for even if he tried, every time she doubted him, she would ask “Do you love me?” and he would look into her eyes and pretend those were Hers; “Of course I do,” her doubts momentarily put at bay. In his mind he’s flirted with her hundreds of times, used thousands of pickup lines, kissed her a million times more, all these scenarios serving to keep him alive until these dreams could become reality, to learn from these scenarios to know what would work for that faithful day when he actually speaks those words for real, for the first time and yet for the millionth time. All that is for naught, however, for she turned out to be nothing like he quite envisioned her to be. His imagination flawed, nowhere near as capable as generating even a facet of just how beautiful she is today. She has changed completely, not even closely resembling that idea he had of her. It may seem broken, but you know what is so beautiful about this? He can fall in love with her now.
- March 22
- , 2011
“Why do we ask so many questions? Two people shouldn’t know each other too well if they want to fall in love.”
Our souls are prisoners of the terror of death, and the day is beautiful.
Paulo Coelho
Of childhood dreams and boyhood fantasies,
Wayward ambitions and ridiculed prophecies,
One can only fashion a guess (barring ineptitude)
As to why I owe a pithy art fag some gratitude
Beyond the alias of a nautical musician
lies something of a clever pseudo-logician
who paints on a canvas, perched on an easel
a plan so cunning, you could add a tail and call it a weasel
His motives are unclear, rather ill-defined
but rest assured, they are positively inclined
He switches often, between first and third person
as much as I deviate with annoying subversion
His wishes and dreams were not to share
Even with himself, as he lacked flair
For much of the world, he did not care
Until he encountered a minx with blonde hair
Life was renewed, he had found what he had lost,
a reason for everything, even his Parfum Lacoste
He found himself the courage to do what he envisioned
For his heart and spirits could no longer be dampened
So go ahead and tell me, my pretty muse
What is this dashing debonair’s clever ruse?
- February 9
- , 2011
can it be / do you hear
love theme from spartacus
a new freedom song is ringing
no more doubt / no more fear
there’s a new day that is bringing
something simple is the key
only love will set us free
it’s so far / it’s so near
almost close / almost here
- February 9
- , 2011
