Friday, November 30, 2007

This Is England


Shane Meadows’ film ‘This Is England’ is all about the shift in what it was to be a skin head in the eighties. Originally, I didn’t know this but skin heads came from the working class of Britain who worked, mainly the docks, with black guys, and they’d take them along to their clubs and play them their music and pretty soon the two cultures combined and intertwined. The ideals of the skinhead originated in unity and mutual respect, not in racism or violence. However, in ‘This Is England’ as Meadows shows the pressures of the early eighties start to distort these ideas. I know that the early eighties were hard for a lot of people. The Falkland’s war for one, cause tension much like the current Iraq situation does, a war streamed back into the living rooms of every home showing the death of many of our soldiers for which was a dispute of a lump off land just off Argentina. You had Margret Thatcher in power, seemingly on her last legs till a triumphant war campaign pulled her through the polls. The miner strikes, the 3 day weeks, the riots the poll tax the middle class divide gather pace and distance from the workers of the country. And like any country where there’s unrest, there are always people who take the opportunity to push their own distorted bigotry on those people who are down on their luck and looking for a way out of it all. My mum and dad were both made unemployed during the eighties, and to be honest I don’t think my dad ever recovered from it all. He used to design machines for agriculture things that would separate out different grades of vegetables that would be as big as warehouses, and he did that for twenty years with his dad, and then the 3 day weeks hit and the work wasn’t there anymore cause, people couldn’t afford to buy the machines. My mum lost her job, working at an advertising agency because they needed to cut back on staff, and well, my mum was a woman in the early eighties, she was dispensable. And then I came along, right when they really couldn’t handle having an extra child more. Zoe was being bullied for being a white girl in a predominately Asian school, which was resolved with (I swear this is true, despite sounding like something off the tv) well my dad drove onto the school playground, handbrake turned right in front of the group who were destroying my sister and slammed the guy onto his bonnet and promised that if he continued it was quite possible to be even more mental than he currently was being. To think if you did that now my dad would be in a maximum security category prison with rapists.

But yes, in short the eighties isn’t the image that’s always portrayed in film and television. You always seem to see people in shiny suits, carrying suitcase sized mobiles with slicked back hair. I think ‘This Is England’ shows a much more realistic idea of 80’s Britain. So the plot, a young boy who’s father has died in the Falklands finds solace and acceptance in a group of young skin head boys and girls. They go out, he feels accepted and begins to feel he has a place. The opening segment is interspersed with a blistering soundtrack and shockingly good cinematography, it makes the plane look idyllic. I think I was mostly impressed with this, he managed to make the everyday idiosyncrasies of life seem beautiful and have a grander feel to them, it hit home to me. I love the beauty of the fish and chip shot, the neon light. The underground walkway mosaics, the forgotten factories and brick walls. This tone doesn’t continue for long though as the calm is interrupted by the former gang leader, back from 3 years in prison and with a renewed passion for what’s right and what’s wrong. He’s decided that the immigrants influx into the country is the route of all the country’s problems and that he needs to “fight for it back”. He splits the group in two, half go, and half stay, unfortunately the young lad stays, seeing him as a sort of authoritive father figure almost. Moved by motivational talks by the National Front he soon collects a band of brothers, intent on cleansing his neighbourhood, which is quite shocking and thought provoking theatre. You notice the shots fade into grey as the story dwindles into this post fascism, and the previously peppy soundtrack moves into the deeply sensitive notes of Ludovico Einaudi. A modern day composer, and in my mind an utter genius, it was an extremely nice surprise to hear him, but his music sat extremely well with the story, bleak yet provocative, not content with you slipping away into the moment impassively like so many theatrical scores, it merely highlighted the ideas being put forward. The pre-curser to the ending of the film is extremely shocking, I was shocked, I didn’t see it coming and it was handled in a way that I was just silent afterwards. Combo (the old gang leader) invites Milky, a black gang member back to his, soon he moves onto questioning him, the questions turn into interrogation and soon overwhelmed by his answers and heavily drugged he brutally beats him to death in front of Shaun, before cowering over the body rocking and crying with him in his arms. The power that this scene can’t be palpitated, it’s immense, it’s an utter break down and violence like I’ve never seen on screen, even though you don’t see any of the blows. You see it from Milky’s perspective, and therefore is utterly harrowing as an experience to watch.

So yes, I’d recommend This Is England, it’s bloody ruddy good.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Snobs tonight.

It's good and bad, good because it's the only place I know of, other than somewhere in Manchester (and even they aren't too egar) that plays more than one Smiths song a night...and...yeah I've forgotten the bad.

It's cold?

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

I Am The The Egg Man

I Am The Egg Man, I Am The Walrus, Goo, Goo, Ga Joo!

Monday, November 26, 2007

Now, I love a good cat picture...


But this is just so so so sweet, I've saved it to my hard drive.

I mean awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww?

I declareuth.

That Mike Oldfield - In Dulci Jubilo makes me want to dance around my lounge on Christmas day like I were 6 or 7 again, not really understanding what was going on, but knowing that it was all we'd done in school for what seemed like forever and that everyone at home was happy and I was getting presents and the kitchen smelt amazing.

No matter how hard you try I don't think you can enjoy Christmas as innocently as a child.

This year I shall indeed try however!

Sunday, November 25, 2007

oh my

It would seem I've listened to enough Elliott Smith this week to be put on suicide watch.

But I promise you that half the time it's because I never remember to turn the computer off when I leave the home, I'm lucky if I remember my books half the time?

I'm not suicidal, yet wish to perhaps shave my head in front of the mirror one day, minus the wrist cutting.

I'm playing christmas songs to make me happy, cultures group presentation tomorrow, this I dread, however I'm sure I'll manage some way or another.

Sigh.

Christmas really can't come fast enough, yet I still need to hand 3 essays in before we leave, and then another two the second week of jan and a drama exam, and hopefully have surgury on my knee inbetween all of that, go to london for the night, have christmas, see everyone, go to the imperial, most likely go up town for a seeing everyone night.

It's just all too much for mes petite head.

Also Nathalie has convinced me living slightly away from campus is good for the mind, so yes, I might be living the high life of inner city Birmingham next year. Which means I'll end up shopping even more than I already do.

Disaster.

I bought some superb christmas goodies.

I'd post pictures but I simply don't trust the security of this blog enough.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Hello, hello? It's me, Picasso.

Fucking bastard shitting fucking fuck fuck fuck FUCK. I fucked my English Language assignment, 4 marks off a pass. The fucking bastard could have at least given me a pass so I could fuck off and spend my time doing sometime I came to university to do in the first place, rather than this stupid fucking system where you have to try everything to get a ‘flavour for it’. No. I don’t want to any more. I’ve had a taste, it’s bitter as fuck and I don’t like it. But yet I have to do it, because to carry on to the next year of my English LITERATURE course I have to have passed a drama, sociology and Language module. It’s fucking madness. If they want to make literature students have a taste of something they’ve not come to do why the hell are they marking you to the point where if you don’t pass the modules you don’t get to progress to the parts of the course you actually came to do. I’m irate, I’m utterly devastated. I got a mark equivalent to a first on my fiction hand in, and I fail Language. The idiots on the top floor will see this mark, um and ar and stroke their beards before finally announcing that ‘my yes, he does seem to be getting a first pass in his literature module, however when it comes to Lexis and Syntax language understanding he simply doesn’t cut the mustard, how can we allow him to carry onto his straight literature course’. Makes me want to spit and scream. However I can’t. So for this next assignment I must increase my score I think by 10 or 15 marks. I’m going to shut myself away, consult with the lecturer, ask him to recommend books, send him first, second and third drafts, get him to help me craft this into the best fuck off essay I’ve ever written it’ll probably bore the shit out of me, and out of anyone other than him who’s going to read it but woop-de-doo once it’s done I’m fucked off out of it, I’ll be with my heroes and my comrades talking morals and ethics and finding new ways to believe in things. The language kids can keep treading their tired old path. My course matter changes every time someone turns the page, that’s immensely powerful. You can’t explain that with convention.

In other news I’m going to dress up like a pirate and go to my Student Union for the first time since freshers, even though it’s only over the road. I’m lazy and it’s usually empty. I just don’t want to be on my own tonight, because I’ve already cried to my mum over the phone about this, and I’m listening to Elliott Smith and that’s just not constructive.

I’m going to go to Birmingham tomorrow to buy presents for Nathalie, and my mum who’s awkward enough to have her birthday a weekish before Christmas. And for anyone else I can think of. Apparently there’s a German market on, so if it’s not a million pounds there might be something nice there worth getting too.

I’m just looking forward to going home and having Christmas and seeing everyone again. I was fine before this happened, it’s just fucked it all. Fucking fucked it.

Sighs and weeps.

Cheer me and you with some O-Zone - Dragostea din tei

A fantastic song, which when translated makes very little sense.

"You want to leave but you don't want don't want to take me,
Don't want don't want to take me,
Don't want don't want, don't want to take me.
Your face and the love from the linden trees,
And I remember your eyes."

Well why yes of course? I understand you Romania, ten four! The lyrics don't matter, get drunk or happy in which ever you chose. I'm going for chips. Shout the lyrics, numa numa yay, and you're in and around the right ball park.

Goodnight

x


Thursday, November 22, 2007

Wes Anderson



Genius - The common garden online dictionary states that a genius is "1.an exceptional natural capacity of intellect, especially as shown in creative and original work". Well yes, that's just about right I'd say.

Wes Anderson is a wonderful director. Owen Wilson is a fantastic actor. You read that right. Owen Wilson when together with Anderson is a fantastic writer also. Not many people know that. They just know he’s the wonky nosed guy from Wedding Crashers and are done with it. No, there’s more to his bow than the low brow. Everyone’s got to pay the bills, and Owen treads the same boards as the likes of Clooney and Pitt in that respect, one for the studio and then one for himself. And in most cases this invariably ends up with collaboration with Anderson.

Anderson is an impeccable director. His vision is clear and direct. It’s precise and sometimes relentlessly staged. The vision is the key with his directing, freeze the frame at any point and the image presented is beautiful, or challenging, or humorous. He crafts and creates his films makes them live. When the two collaborate it’s many a wonderful thing.

Sigh.

I’m just going to post my favourite piece of dialogue from any film, it’s from the Royal Tenenbaums. Richie is in love with his adopted sister, Margot, and always has been. He knew that it could never be, but still when she eventually got married he had a mental breakdown and left home only to return many years later, along with the rest of his family under the false pretence that their father is dying. In the wake of their discovery of Margot’s infidelities, Richie shuts the bathroom door and stares deeply at his own image and takes off his headband. Slowly, you hear the delicate strum of Elliot Smith’s “Needle in the Hay,” a song of such desolate beauty that you know Richie’s intent before he takes out the razor. Instantly, the scene takes on the presaged dimness of a morphine-dream. As the blood courses down his arms and he tries to sit, the song stops abruptly before starting up again as he’s rushed to the hospital. When he’s released from hospital, he goes back to his old room in the family home, and sleeps in the tent that he and Margot used to use to escape into when they were children. Margot finds him and asks him why he did what he did. They embrace and Margot remains in his arms, only for them to slowly realise that they share a love that can never be, she backs out of the tent to the refrain of “Ruby Tuesday” by the Stones. It gets me every time. It’s a beautiful scene, it’s superb. Oh here’s that piece of script I was promising.

“I have to tell you something...

What is it?

I love you.

I love you, too.”

It’s simple. But it’s beautiful. It’s a microcosm of the Anderson/Wilson film making aesthetic

I wish to see 'The Darjeeling Limited'.


I've not seen a Wes Anderson in a cinema yet and it looks super amazing high five cool.

England have broken my heart.

Yet again.

I mean we usually get to the knock out stages before my summer's ruined?

But England have gone one better and fucked up my June in November?

Tards.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Non Serviam


Non serviam, is a Latin phrase, spoken to God by the Devil whilst he was still an angel. It translates to “I will not serve” and displays the largest two fingered salute in the history of mankind. It’s saying it’s better to reign in Hell than it is to serve in Heaven.

Now. I don’t find it in any way at all to liken my current relationship with my language seminar closet, to that of the Devil and God in any way inappropriate. In fact, it’s entirely appropriate. English literature is a many wonderful thing. It soars and flies high above us, occasionally picking us up above all that are below, letting us live and see and feel things which we’d never thought possible before. However the study of language would declare this to be merely a consequence of convention and syntax. It angers me. It deeply offends me. I find the notion disguising. To pass of the fragility of Joyce or ferocity of Greene as merely being circumstance of a pre set out word set makes me want to rant endlessly at this closed minded little man.

Language seemingly accepts no answer but its own; that its idea is the only conceivable true path. I chose to stick to my books, hold my writers closely. I shan’t analyse them too closely though, they’re like rainbows, you get too close and they disappear and you’ll never see them the same way again.

So to you, Language studies. I say “non serviam.”

Listening to Patrick Watson. It’s like throwing together Jeff Buckley, St Peppers Beatles and the good parts of Rufus Wainwright. Sounds better than that alludes to.

Good day to you.

Me.

Whatever.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

You know...

I think this blog might be officially dead, it's not had a comment for nearly a month.

Which means essentially I'm talking to myself.

Which is worrying because I'm still doing it.

Jibber jabber wokky wooky.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Sunday, November 18, 2007

O M G

IT'S SNOWING AND IT'S STICKING

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Hugsum Daginn Minn, Í Dag Og Í Gær

Well then, nice week so far. Super nice week really, it’s been nice. Over the weekend went back home to see Sarah and the guys as she’d come back from London village so I thought it rude not to come back.

Went to go see “30 Days Of Night” a predictable vampire romp. Only this time in the snow and in a town at the top of America where they don’t see the sunlight for 30 days. Sounds really interesting and it really could have been if they’d have worked on it a bit. However the vampires they chose really did look the gayest vampires in the world, it sounds cliché but the one did look like the singer from the Pet Shop Boys (I’ll try to prove this with a picture). Whilst the others looked like the pink end of the world strongest man tournament. With two...maybe three lady vampires between the lot of them. So this band of camp vampires arrive by massive oil tanker and decide to tick all the horror boxes as they go along.

1) - They kill the protagonist’s close relative

2) - The protagonist’s friend becomes “one of them”

3) - They have the whole “he’s going to change...we’ve got to kill him” thing.

4) - They all go a bit mental and one person decides that “he aint staying here for
them to come and kill me” so he swiftly goes outside for them to kill him to bits.

5) - And a loosely pinned on romance story, which results in death. Obviously.

Some great lines too, a prisoner, half naked and panting asking Josh Hartnett “finish me off” raised more than a titter, as did “I saw what you did back there with your axe, think you can do that 3 or 4 more times?” Strewth Josh, I dunno, give me a break in between and I’ll give it my best shot?

Then onto the most homoerotic film I’ve seen in a while in “A Nightmare On Elm Street 2”. Basic premise being that Freddy’s spirit has lived on and inhabits the house which these unsuspecting Americanas move into. The kids a bit weird and has dreams where Freddy tries to possess him. Least that’s what I hope he was trying to do, because he walked around his dreams pretty much naked for a leering Freddy to tell him every now and again that he had the body he’d been looking for and that he wanted to be inside of him. Hm. The argument for the slightly mincing theme continues with the fact that as soon as Freddy has control of this body he takes it to an underground gay club, takes home the gym instructor and whips him (naked) to death. Quite. I’m excited for number three! (Freddy takes the form of a Golden Retriever!).


I ended up drinking vodka straight out the bottle, as there were no mixers. It made me very happy, zero hang-over, good times. Wolverhampton town was again slightly stunted. Yet again the Civic was closed and only the wulfren was being used to squeeze all of Wolverhampton’s wonderful people under one roof. And the Pigeon Detectives were on the decks, spinning tunes likable to that of “100.7 HEART FM INDIE HOUR! LET’S ROOOOOOCCCCCCKKKKK”. A bit gay, but the lead singer soon got tired, presumably out of stress of keeping that gigantic nose of his upright and went off for a sleep. Or to have sex with a collection of ugly femmes all waiting down my the barrier staring upwards at their greasy pale skin the epitomisation of raw sex.

But twas a very good night enjoyed by all, more so by Mike who was so drunk he thought I’d taken an entire taxi ride with him to Codsall, when in fact I’d gone to Tettenhall. And taken a completely different taxi in the first place. Going in opposite directions. Bless him.

But yes, from then another Sunday spent at home, every day is like Sunday there. Nothing really happens, it’s nice sometimes. Other times it drags a bit. It’s better when people are around too really. Means it’s not just me, mum, dad and my cat. Alarmingly LuLu gets included in more and more conversations.

“What are you looking at LuLu?” - they’ll say

“LuLu, for the last time David Cameron’s ‘yo blair’ antics don’t constitute a leader, it’s new labour in disguise lulu! Why can’t you see the situation for what it is? GOD!” - Who knows....maybe one day?

And then of course Biff on monday, you already know my feelings towards that, super awesome-o.

So I arrive back to university. This house is a tip, my room is tidy and lovely because I’m like that, I like to have somewhere where there isn’t complete chaos, I like a bit of lived in mess but I can’t seem to get a happy middle ground, cause this place is so small it gets un tidy so quickly. I cleaned my windows this morning, inside and out. Go me eh? My room to explain is roughly three feet by 4, with a sink attached to one of the walls next to a wardrobe. I have a desk with my computer and tv on, with shelves above. In the corner I get a wire mesh which I’ve had comfirmed by carbon dating to be an early Roman equivalent of a torture rack COUGH I mean bed. And I have two chairs, but there’s only one of me. So the other chair lives at the end of my bed, quite often with my jeans on. Fascinating. I have a lot of posters, since this picture, there are more.

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One positive of university and living away from home I guess is the fact that I’ve lost some weight. Well so far two stone since September 19th. So that’s a stone a month I guess? That’s pretty good, 3 stone by Christmas hopefully? Then I can put it all back on again in two weeks. Hurrah. Another good thing would be the independence, the new people, the course itself is super and will only get better I think. Those are the plusses. Oh and the internet connection, that’s bossing. Hellooooo streamed media. But still it’s not all perfect.

I miss people dreadfully. I try to stay here as much as possible but I’m always finding myself coming back for the smallest of reasons. I miss Nathalie dreadfully. In a way I wish I had been clever enough to go to Manchester, but on the same hand I wouldn’t want to corner her. It’s just nice when I get to see her more, it’s why I’m looking forward to Christmas so much I think. It’s really bad sometimes. Certain songs get to me more than they should, certain lines from fims or books. Currently it’s Starálfur by Sigur Rós. Which if the internet is to be believed is about elfs in the wood. Hm, but I think it’s just lovely, all pianos. I find pianos so provocative, it’s because I don’t understand them. I don’t know if I’d want to, because I wouldn’t be able to play what’s in my head, that’s the most frustrating thing about any instrument, when you’ve got something in your head that you can’t put down or make the thing in your hand do. And then inevitably you forget what it was you were trying to do, so I usually look for bands to write the music that I’m thinking of. And in many way that’s what Starálfur is, I mean it’s in Icelandic I don’t know what he’s saying but I know what I’d be saying. It’s hard to describe. But it’s beautiful, it peaks and picks you up and you almost float on top of it. It’s delightful, I’ll try and find a link to it for you.

I miss my friends too, being away from my comrades sucks. I feel like I’m constantly catching up. It’s sad.

Watched - ‘The Royal Tenenbaums” recently. Made me realise I still want to write more than anything in the world.

Read – ‘Brighton Rock’ by Graham Greene. Excellent morality and spiritual book caught me completely off guard. And ‘The Remains Of The Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro, real slow burner frustrating but deeply sad novel.

That’s all for now.

Love you and miss you.

x

Sigur Rós. Hope you love it too.

Just got woken up.

Flat mates shall die.

I don't like,

The way uni gets in the way of things.

I live for the weekend but sometimes there isn't even anything to look forward to even then.

I'm tired and over sad.

Fucking unfair.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

BIFFY!

Well fun, well fun.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Soulwax - New Album

The title in full -

"most of the remixes we’ve made over the years except for the one for einsturzende neubauten because we lost it and a few we didn’t think sounded good enough or just didn’t fit in length-wise. but including some that are hard to find because either people forgot about them or just simply because they haven’t been released yet. a few we really love. one we think is just ok. some we did for free. some we did for money. some just for ourselves without permission and some for friends as swaps but never on time and always at our studio in ghent.”"

It's a bit bass heavy, but all in all preeeeetty nice. Although, cause they've taken their sweet time, half the songs they remix aren't particularly relevant anymore?

Conclusion, don't ask me to describe music.

Monday, November 5, 2007

There goes my hero.

James Stewart.

Watch this and go aw with me, his voice is all you need.


It's bonfire night!

But I am seeing no fireworks or bonfires.

It is a sad bonfire night.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Anthony isn't dead.

He's done a lovely cover of Knockin' On Heaven's Door


I am a link, click me to here what I'm talking about.


Saturday, November 3, 2007

OH DEAR GOD NO!

Harold is leaving Neighbours

Say it aint so Hazza? Say it aint SO!

Ones to watch #3

South Park


Now then now then, this has been quite a turn around for me personally. I can remember watching South Park with my best mate in year five laughing because the characters said 'Fuck' and 'bastard' a lot. I even did my talk on South Park in year 7, I loved that friggin show. But then I fell out of love with it. Why? Well it got a bit rubbish, and it got put on at around half midnight on a thursday and I really couldn't be bothered to continue to care about it.

However, the greatness of being a lazy student I looked upon the new series of South Park (now into it's eleventh for crimenys sake!) and found myself laughing. Lots. I looked back on older episodes and found that yes, while there's swearing and crude jokes there's also a hell of a lot of intellegant script writing, in their own way South Park creaters Matt and Trey have covered climate change numerous times...without ever having to reference it directly. They're very smart, and more importantly inventive and funny. Satire is a hell of a tool and in the current infrastructure of American media it's one of the only tools left with which to sneak agendas in under the radar, and they do it superbly.

See as many episodes as takes your fancy here

And on a side note, apparently this is what I'd look like if I were from South Park

Tattie bye!

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Underneath the covers.

I'd rather be in bed.

But I have work to do, but before I do I'll get my internetting out of the way...I mean you have to don't you? You do your internet rounds to make sure that no one desperatly wants to talk to you before you plow in and cut yourself off from the world? Right? It's not just me?

I think it probably isn't just me, but more than likely it's me and a very low percentage of people.

Well today I shall be listening to Anthony and the Johnsons whilst working, as someone just bad mouthed 'them' as being a 'bit of a fad'. Firstly it's a him and hired chello, violin, brass and drum monkeys and secondly he's lovely.

Fistful of love shall have some part to play at my wedding, even if I have to sing it in my head. My head is a very effective Mp3 player, I've got at least 50gb up there.

Love and misses.

x

Friday, November 2, 2007

Worrying

Mind blanks and total loss of logic and reason. Anxiety and over emotion when confronted by situations involving information and writing.

I worry.

Christmas time in London, it took a while.

Oh and in breaking spoiler news....

Kyle did suck Cartman's balls.

It's possibly the best cartoon on the box right now.

By box I mean the internet.

Ones to watch #2

Arrested Development



Quite honestly the funniest American Tv show in the last 10 years? Or Ever?

The acto who played Job was reccently in Blades of Glory, whilst the actor who played George Michael was in the awsomely funny SuperBad over the summer, and also stars the fantastic stand up David Cross.

Watch here

I AM A LINK

Oh as for Soulwax

I don't think I was drunk enough, or on E.

I think that marred my evening, that and I went and did my knee in again, which killed, someone trod on my foot and another person barged me right on the knee joint, queue a "click clonk" noise from my knee joint and shooting pains going to my calf and thigh. Weak.

If it weren't for the fact that Soulwax themselves were....dull, and didn't even play E-talking...sigh and then 2 many Djs didn't come on till half 3 in the morning by which time I was crippled, skint (3.80 for aq Bud, the wateryist of all watery american beer) and just plain tired. Plus people kept on smoking into my face.

In better news it's only a week and a few days till Biffy, and I'm currently on a wave of loving them so that gig will be filled with much joy.

Time Traveller's Wife

I am reading this again, because I started thinking about it. It's a beautiful if rather girly read. All about love and being away from the person you want to be with and doing everything possible to stay in the here and now. It makes me sad and happy in equal measure.

"Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you."