Lessons of 2014
1. Rhythm is the key to discipline. (Achieving that rhythm is on the list for 2015.)2. Unconditional acceptance is the most beautiful gift of love.3. Nostalgia is a powerful drug. It feels good (in a masochistic kind of way), is great as an excuse to avoid reality, is also great for writing fiction, and--because of the above?--is highly addictive. Do not exceed recommended dose. (Recommended dose still to be determined.)4. The palette of human emotion is wide. Wide, wide. There are all sorts of hues and grades that won't ever fit into a CMYK scheme.5. [Should really be 4(a)] Connections with people come in all flavors, all kinds, and--most importantly--all levels. The key: learn to identify what kind of connection you're making.6. I talk too much. No, really.7. Love the life you live. Live the life you love.8. Trite can also be true. (7a?)9. Facebook is, truly, the worst time-suck.10. For my dogs I'm prepared to make any sacrifice. I have proof.11. Love doesn't need to be returned to be real.12. No, there really is no end to love. (Thank you, U2.)
Happy 2015. May you revel in the grand beauty "beneath the chitter-chatter and the noise, silence and sentiment, emotion and fear. The haggard, inconstant flashes of beauty." (La Grande Belleza, Paolo Sorrentino, 2013. You need to see it. If you already did, let me know and let's rave about it together.)
Couldn't find a version with subtitles in English. Here's my translation of the last bit, my favorite:
Happy 2015. May you revel in the grand beauty "beneath the chitter-chatter and the noise, silence and sentiment, emotion and fear. The haggard, inconstant flashes of beauty." (La Grande Belleza, Paolo Sorrentino, 2013. You need to see it. If you already did, let me know and let's rave about it together.)
Couldn't find a version with subtitles in English. Here's my translation of the last bit, my favorite:
It always ends like this. With death. First, however, there is life, there beneath the bla bla bla bla. It's all sedimented under the chatter and the noise, silence and sentiment, emotion and fear. The sparse, inconstant flashes of beauty, and then wretched squalor and miserable humanity. All buried under the blanket of the embarrassment of being in the world. Bla, bla, bla, bla. Beyond, there's the beyond. I don't deal with the beyond. Therefore, let this novel begin. In the end, it's only a trick. Yes, it's only a trick.
Published on January 03, 2015 15:19
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