Not the life and soul of the party, are we
Last night I saw Diarios de motocicleta and, naturally, I cried.
So what if the film is a fine exercise in hagiography? It’s still beautiful, and moving. It retraces the road trip taken by the young Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara across South America, and his political awakening. I wanted to believe that things would work out for him in the end; that he would put on his beret, grow his beard, lead the Cuban revolution already and get away with it, instead of getting caught and having his hands chopped off in the end. I always hope that things will work out.
Later, on the tube home, I read two short stories out of Faithless:Tales of transgression by Joyce Carol Oates -right at the top of my personal writers’ pantheon - and I cried some more.
I don’t know why, Internet, but I feel I should apologize for not being cheery right now.
J has just brought me some more dirty comics in attempt to distract me from my maudlin/dark mood. It makes me feel all warm and fluffy inside that he cares.
Michel Simon dans un musée du sexe ?
5 years ago
3 comments:
we all need to cry sometimes...
only sometimes
...
if we do it often, then eventually we won't have tears to cry our own death
on the other side, i cry everyday when i see my latinamerica...
my land's suffer is my suffer
Sometimes it's good to get down into a deep funk and nurture it. Surround yourself with everything maudlin and swim in it.
And sometimes it's good to look at pornographic comics and realize that it's much easier just to laugh at cartoon dongs.
serenaluchang
www.ennui.motime.com
Pepe: right now I'm not really planning my own funeral so I'm not being too scrimpy with the tears.
Serena : It's been a 5-week funk already! I'm starting to bore myself, at least on here. This blog is my way of letting it out, I guess.
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