Saturday, December 29, 2007

émotions d'autrefois

L'homme de Verre: Elle préfère imaginer une relation avec quelqu'un d'absent que de créer des liens avec ceux qui sont présents ?
Amélie: Non...Peut-être même qu'elle fait tout pour arranger la vie des autres.
L'homme de Verre: Mais elle? La sienne, de vie,....qui va s'en occuper ?
Amélie: En attendant, mieux vaut se consacreraux autres qu'à un nain de jardin.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Sunday, December 16, 2007

TP Update

On December 11, 2007, Terry Pratchett, writer of the Discworld series, announced that he has "a very rare form of early onset Alzheimer's"..

From TP's blog:

P.S. I would just like to draw attention to everyone reading the above that this should be interpreted as 'I am not dead'. I will, of course, be dead at some future point, as will everybody else. For me, this maybe further off than you think - it's too soon to tell.
I know it's a very human thing to say "Is there anything I can do", but in this case I would only entertain offers from very high-end experts in brain chemistry.

Expressive..

It still feels good to talk.. I am thankful for the illusion of companionship, and the phantom of a companion.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

My perception, reflection, (im)perfection..

I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.

~ Anaïs Nin

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Why here?

I need a place where I can shout and weep. I have to be a Spanish savage at some time of the day. I record here the hysteria life causes in me. The overflow of an undisciplined extravagance. To hell with taste and art, with all contractions and polishings. Here I shout, I dance, I weep, I gnash my teeth, I go mad —all by myself, in bad English, in chaos. It will keep me sane for the world and for art.

~ Anaïs Nin, Oct. 27, 1933 (writing about her diary)