hilitehead

nov 11

when you think you’ve had enough, its never enough

if I had all the money in the world
I would spend it on a few people
I would buy gifts in place of my sentiments creating abstract equations
that make much sense in my head but maybe not to them
can love have an equal redeem in the material world?
can gifts speak to your feelings?

nov 12

Sweet Movie (1974) by Dusan Makavejev

thinking could sometimes become a very dangerous exercise
because films, in most cases, present almost pure experience
the age-old question of style or substance…
love is best in fairytales
a woman in love is helpless like a begging dog

Coco Before Chanel (2009) by Anne Fontaine

its kind of like your not really living at all
you wait your entire life for a savior in the form of a man
searching for the person your parents and their marriage could never fulfill
you lust after a fantasy that would in thought replace the missing flaw inside
then you meet someone, but your bitter
you lash out at him each time because you don’t see him
to you, he is not solid but a replacement of sorts
and no matter how much you try to connect with him on a sentimental
individual level
he is merely a dumping ground for all the hostility resentment
set forth by the absence and parental short-comings of your father, in particular
(if you’re a female)
then bred and adhered by all the faulty men you encountered thereafter

I feel the emotions
the situation, its many difficult nuances
but its hard to commune these emotions in words, hard to describe or fix
how can something so easily understandable be so hard to fix?

don’t frighten her
she has the annoying habit of vanishing
I always knew I’d be no ones wife
not even yours
its just that sometimes, I forget
my mother was an idiot
she married for love
and cried her whole life
my father cheated on her constantly
proud people breed poor sorrows for themselves

nov 13

A Real Young Girl (1976) by Catherine Breillat

A unity of theme in the natural world and decay as related to this young girl’s perception of her vagina: something akin to stinky, swampy pit- far from the ripe, juicy peach of male imagination.