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Showing posts from January, 2008

Beauty, Charm, Admiration

Beauty All forms of beauty, like all possible phenomena, contain an element of the eternal and an element of the transitory - of the absolute and of the particular. Absolute and eternal beauty does not exist, or rather it is only an abstraction creamed from the general surface of different beauties. The particular element in each manifestation comes from the emotions: and just as we have our own particular emotions, so we have our own beauty. Charles Baudelaire (1821–67), French poet. Curiosités Esthétiques,“Salon of 1846,” sct. 18 (1868; repr. in The Mirror of Art, ed. by Jonathan Mayne, 1955). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Charm All charming people, I fancy, are spoiled. It is the secret of their attraction. Oscar Wilde (1854–1900), Anglo-Irish playwright, author. Erskine, in The Portrait of Mr. W. H., ch. 1 (first published in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, July 1889). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Admiration Bad artists always admire each other’s wo

Pick Me, Choose Me, Love Me!

I have come to believe that love happens. And when it does, it gets you whether you want it or not, like it or not. It almost seems as if it gives you a high, an energy that makes you think that whatever you have thought for yourself is right, what you have imagined will lead you to where we have dreamed to be one day. When love grows on you, it makes you believe that boundaries don’t exist, 'You and I' becomes 'Us', and that makes you sacrifice things that you never thought you were capable of living without, to the point that it starts reflecting in your identity. It’s all very surreal really. But what do you do when you realize your short comings as a couple? What do you do when all that emotional drama and ecstasy doesn’t last and all the magic fades away? The politically correct answer would be to pretend to ignore it. Because we are raised to keep trying to work things out. Even when you know you are jumping into the fire, you are obligated to try. So, most of the

Anger, Passion, Aesthetics

Anger I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad: and I think I would lose what little value I may have as a writer if I were to refuse, as a matter of principle, to accept the warming rays of the sun, and to report them, whenever, and if ever, they happen to strike me. E. B. White (1899–1985), U.S. author, editor. Interview in Writers at Work (Eighth Series, ed. by George Plimpton, 1988). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Passion Passions spin the plot: We are betrayed by what is false within. George Meredith (1828–1909), English author. Modern Love, Sonnet 43 (1862). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Aesthetics I hate that aesthetic game of the eye and the mind, played by these connoisseurs, these mandarins who “appreciate” beauty. What is beauty, anyway? There’s no such thing. I never “appreciate,” any more than I “like.” I love or I hate. Pablo Picasso (1881–1973), Spanish artist. Quoted in: Françoise Gilot and Carlton Lake, Life with Picasso, pt

Curriculum Vitae

The future shrinks Whether the past Is well or badly spent. We shape our lives Although their forms Are never what we meant. ~ Dana Gioia from Interrogations at Noon

Summer Storm

We stood on the rented patio While the party went on inside. You knew the groom from college. I was a friend of the bride. We hugged the brownstone wall behind us To keep our dress clothes dry And watched the sudden summer storm Floodlit against the sky. The rain was like a waterfall Of brilliant beaded light, Cool and silent as the stars The storm hid from the night. To my surprise, you took my arm A gesture you didn't explain And we spoke in whispers, as if we two Might imitate the rain. Then suddenly the storm receded As swiftly as it came. The doors behind us opened up. The hostess called your name. I watched you merge into the group, Aloof and yet polite. We didn't speak another word Except to say goodnight. Why does that evening's memory Return with this night's storm A party twenty years ago, Its disappointments warm? There are so many might have beens, What ifs that won't stay buried, Other cities, other jobs, Strangers we might have married. And memory insi

Happy New Year

I never really understood the enthusiasm involved in celebrating the New Year. Celebrating the mistakes that we have made and laying ground for many other that we are about to make in the comming year. I mean, what's the big deal? But apart from my truely growing cynical self, the only thing that I always look forward to, cant live without watching and can wait a million years for - are the fireworks arranged for the new year celebrations. :D These are truely mind blowing!! New Year celebrations in Times Square, NewYork New Year celebrations in Sydney, Australia Happy New Year guys! (Whatever that means!) :)