Posts Tagged ‘love’

dating dracula

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

“The thing about relationships is, they are scary. The metaphors that accrue around vampires confirm it. Ward off a bloodsucker as you would an overeager date, by eating lots of garlic. If you need to stop him for good, drive a stake through his heart. Do you feel empty or drained in the sober light of morning? Maybe you shouldn’t have invited her in. It’s as if us monster junkies can’t stop reciting one of intimacy’s first principles: The person you love—your protector, your comfort—has, necessarily, an almost preternatural power to hurt you.”

neither here nor there

Sunday, October 17th, 2010


“Kissing someone is actually sucking on a long tube the other end of which is full of excrement.

…her feelings controlled her rather than vice versa. As if her feelings were something outside her, not in her control, like a bus she has to wait for.

‘What are you afraid of?’
‘I’m afraid of absolutely everything there is.'”

David Foster Wallace, “Here and There”


“she took my blood…or in some strange movement i agreed to give it to her.”

Friday, July 2nd, 2010


“Repetition’s love is in truth the only happy love. Like recollection, it is not disturbed by hope nor by the marvellous anxiety of discovery, neither, however, does it have the sorrow of recollection.

He was deeply and passionately in love, and yet he was already, in the earliest days, in a position to recollect his love. He was basically finished with the whole relationship. Simply by having begun, he advanced such a terrific distance that he had leapt right over life…
If anyone can speak about the love of recollection he can. The great advantage of recollection is that it begins with loss. This is its security – it has nothing to lose.

The dialectic of repetition is easy, because that which is repeated has been, otherwise it could not be repeated; but precisely this, that it has been, makes repetition something new.”

Søren Kierkegaard, “Repetition”


Fear. and Love.

Wednesday, May 12th, 2010

Barthes, “A Lover’s Discourse“:

I am, intermittently, unfaithful. This is the condition of my survival; for if I did not forget, I should die. The lover who doesn’t forget sometimes dies of excess, exhaustion, and tension of memory (like Werther).

“The clinical fear of breakdown is the fear of a breakdown which has already been experienced.” … the lover’s anxiety: it is the fear of a mourning which has already occurred.


Jorge Luis Borges, “The Threatened One“:

It is love. I will have to hide or flee.

Its prison walls grow larger, as in a fearful dream.
The alluring mask has changed,
but as usual it is the only one.
What use now are my talismans, my touchstones:
the practice of literature,
vague learning,
an apprenticeship to the language used by the flinty Northland
to sing of its seas and its swords,
the serenity of friendship,
the galleries of the library,
ordinary things,
the young love of my mother,
the soldierly shadow cast by my dead ancestors,
the timeless night,
the flavor of sleep and dream?

Being with you or without you
is how I measure my time.

Now the water jug shatters above the spring,
now the man rises to the sound of birds,
now those who look through the windows are indistinguishable,
but the darkness has not brought peace.

It is love, I know it;
the anxiety and relief at hearing your voice,
the hope and the memory,
the horror at living in succession.

It is love with its own mythology,
its minor and pointless magic.
There is a street corner I do not dare to pass.
Now the armies surround me, the rabble.
(This room is unreal. She has not seen it)

A woman’s name has me in thrall.
A woman’s being afflicts my whole body.