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.
Why.
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.
No?
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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.
No?
