sorry bunny

sorry bunny

Sunday, January 1, 2012

i love french movies

Watching: The Names of Love /

Le nom des gens   ... 


"You didn't Love them. You just weren't scared of them."

- like Arthur, I too usually end up with the persons I am not afraid of. While the ones that I really feel something for, leave me. Because That whole, throat closing up, nervous chit-chat, or avoid-all eye contact! Thing. It really does suck to get all nervous around people I feel I instinctively connect with. And with Society these days, people aren't used to Me NOT being someone that has created a habit of pretending they're okay, not nervous, not attracted, just Chill. So they think I'm lame & annoying. And I have created a habit of "acting" lame & annoying. Talk about nothing, say something weird, but say it quick so no one thinks you're serious. Of course, this may be what in reality, constitutes as lame & annoying anyway... 

 

"Come to My place I don't want to be alone."

- it seems I am a composite of the 2 main characters

- I feel like I must've been sexually abused as a child, my tendencies otherwise just don't make sense.   I mean I always wondered if it was true when I told my pre-school teacher I had been touched...

all guys are dicks. all girls are ego-centric. all fathers are assholes. all mothers are suffocating. i can only trust those without a gender... but most of all: all guys are assholes & can never be trusted. (i will hurt myself trying to believe otherwise) 

- it sort of quells my desire to fall in love when i watch a movie about 2 people falling in love. you'd think already falling in love would have done it, but i guess we are all really poly-amorous, especially if you don't believe in time.

"i'm bored without your aSS" -I AGREE.

 

"We're half-breeds. We don't know who we are or where we are from"  yes, we are, aren't we? see, Arthur is  a secret french of jewish descent, and Baya is a half-algerian non-muslim. and me, I'm a half-palestinian barely-defined-hispanic terrestrial

just realized how funny, "half-palestinian" sounds, it's like which half? oh, the half the UN gave to us? or the half we stubbornly sent back? (see a real palestinian would never say that.) 

 

[we can try to find out about our past, our parent's parents, why we were handed whatever we were handed... but maybe it is all a dream, like the ones we have every night, all the same. is it more seeking, to be seeking something real historical?

it isn't seeking i search for, i search to be uncovered. i search for my future. i hate hiding. i'd rather take my underwear off in public than be forced by social norms to stop talking about all my embarrassing things.

a more wrinkled jacket.

 

carrying a dead bird

we can't seek the past of our parent's

whatever they never told us

what they hid

we know

and what we can do when they die-

is to never hide ourselves, and never lie

 

to be hit with the long pipe

standing upright just as you chase after the dream of your LEGITIMATE history

fear for the old, getting crushed by subway doors

chicken concentration camps

for half a new year's i was vegan

and for the other half, I had no identity

 

if you could truly forgive & forget all the bad things, don't you think your children would notice?

and if you were silent? don't you realize they'd feel ashamed. but not know. quite why.

with your shirt half open

and my heart sewn shut

]

in the end... they said, "screw his roots". but I say.. I'm just confused, and I grew from somewhere, and those places have names.  but what i feel rooted to, in terms of origins, is something that cannot be covered by names. and i feel it, see it, breathe it in. whatever you call it. you know the smell...

 

 

 

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