Tuesday, 13 January 2009


The English Patient:
When Almasy, half-crazed with despair and longing and desire asks Madox what that place at the base of a woman's throat is called, Madox says: For God's sake, man. Pull yourself together.

Isn't that passion the goal?
Unseaming is just the natural by-product; desirable, in fact, because it acts as a good proxy to having attained said goal.


My interviews.
Coding them (again).
Deleting old transcripts and replacing them with new notes. .doc by .doc. Wild tabla music in the background, and the last edges of a wineglass spilling the sort of carelessness that is required for good concentration.
And I wonder, as I hit Delete-delete-Delete, again and again and again (with the calm certainty that what comes next is better): is this what He will feel like when it comes time to bring about the end of the world? Simple, energizing background music, a tinge of winered madness, and a calmly certain click on some cosmic Delete key. If so, I wouldn't mind being a part of that party. There's good music, wine, and what comes next is better.

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