Just about time to write about Love…with the up coming Saint Valentine’s day. We’re being bombarded by publicity, stores dressed in red, teddy bears, huge heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, my mail is already full of publicity from Apple inviting me to buy a personalized ipod for my loved one and the airlines helping me to plan my passionate weekend, spas for two, a movie contest of romantic home produced movies (porn?), e-books to improve your skills on blow jobbing, ohh how many products and options!
Thanks god I’m in France and I’ll be able to escape a little bit from this Saint Valentine madness; even if they think they live in a free market, liberal industrial capitalism, they don’t know what they are talking about.
It is enough the very day life, love songs, love stories, movies, series … every way you look around is full of love, as the wise Magyd Cherif would say about sex and love: It is more important than school, work, knowledge; everything is about girls (or guys).
Do humans are obsessed with love? Or their imagination is so reduced they can’t think about something else. Writing, producing, acting; does it mean they do know love? Anyway it seems that you’re obliged to find it.
Alain Sechas. Le baiser, Rodin. Tourcoing suite (45 dessins)
So love. What is it? And why is everybody looking for it? I really like the definition Samuel Beckett gives it in “Premier Amour” (First Love) What we call Love is the exile, with a postcard from the country once in a while. And he says about the loved one; She bothered me deeply, even when she wasn’t there…..I didn’t feel well when I was with her, but I felt free to think about something else than her, and that was great… They are one of my favorite couples in literature Lulu/Anne and who ever; the other one would be Heathcliff and Cathy from Wuthering Heights.
I’m not a Grinch of love or bitter, but as you can see I have a twisted way to think about love. Where does it come from? I don’t know, my family, media, literature, personal experience, maybe. My idea of romantic love is, stimulating, passionate, intellectual, cynic, challenging, mad, free, fun, bitter, sweet, impertinent but never simple. Am I asking too much? Well I guess I will have to wait to find it, and keep on feeding my twisted conception of love; meanwhile I’ll keep on watching screenplays and reading novels.
Thanks god I’m in France and I’ll be able to escape a little bit from this Saint Valentine madness; even if they think they live in a free market, liberal industrial capitalism, they don’t know what they are talking about.
It is enough the very day life, love songs, love stories, movies, series … every way you look around is full of love, as the wise Magyd Cherif would say about sex and love: It is more important than school, work, knowledge; everything is about girls (or guys).
Do humans are obsessed with love? Or their imagination is so reduced they can’t think about something else. Writing, producing, acting; does it mean they do know love? Anyway it seems that you’re obliged to find it.
Alain Sechas. Le baiser, Rodin. Tourcoing suite (45 dessins)So love. What is it? And why is everybody looking for it? I really like the definition Samuel Beckett gives it in “Premier Amour” (First Love) What we call Love is the exile, with a postcard from the country once in a while. And he says about the loved one; She bothered me deeply, even when she wasn’t there…..I didn’t feel well when I was with her, but I felt free to think about something else than her, and that was great… They are one of my favorite couples in literature Lulu/Anne and who ever; the other one would be Heathcliff and Cathy from Wuthering Heights.
I’m not a Grinch of love or bitter, but as you can see I have a twisted way to think about love. Where does it come from? I don’t know, my family, media, literature, personal experience, maybe. My idea of romantic love is, stimulating, passionate, intellectual, cynic, challenging, mad, free, fun, bitter, sweet, impertinent but never simple. Am I asking too much? Well I guess I will have to wait to find it, and keep on feeding my twisted conception of love; meanwhile I’ll keep on watching screenplays and reading novels.
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