nathan chow:

Two one-armed men looked at each other and realized that together was the only way they could ever clap again.

it was only in innocent motion, whether wrestling or tickling or some silly spur-of-the-moment game, that they were not afraid of touching each other.

he had just won their wrestling match when he loosened his arm around her neck. sprawled diagonally across her bed, together they put their game to a pause.

no more motion, but his arm lingered on her, dangling on her neck as if it were an unsure and wimpy hug.

i could sleep like this, she whispered.

he looked at her awkward position. there is no way that’s comfortable, he thought.

but she was afraid that if she shifted just a little bit or said anything about how umcomfortable she really was, he would take his arm off.

and he knew what she meant. and he, too, was afraid that if she hadn’t said that, he’d have to remove his arm from her, for fear of motionless touch.

but his arm stayed—motionless, unafraid—as their touch sang them a lullaby and they fell into a nap together.

three different passages by my film professor Ray Carney in his book “Why Art Matters”:

“Life is mysterious, but its mysteries are entirely different from the mystifications in L.A. Confidential, Blood Simple, Blue Velvet, or Psycho. Their mysteries are shallow. They can be cleared up with a few words of explanation. Their puzzlements are trivial—matters of fact and event, of who did what to whom. Make a film about real mysteries, mysteries that don’t involve facts but feelings—like the mystery of who we are, the mystery of why we do hurtful things to ourselves and others, the mystery of why the effects of our actions can be so different from our intentions, the mystery of why we can never see ourselves as others see us.”

“Slasher pictures are too tame. Emotional violence is far worse than physical. Casual remarks cut more deeply than Freddy Kruger’s blades. The masks we wear are scarier than Jason’s—and don’t come off. The irrationality of our doubts and despairs is more frightening than any monster’s rampage.”

“Never forget that to be an artist is, above everything else, to be a truth-teller, one of the few left in a culture seized in a death-grip by media-induced fictions and journalistic cliches. You speak secrets no one else dares to whisper. You exist to share your most private feelings and personal observations with others. They are where truth lies. Don’t be afraid of being too personal, too private. Your most secret fears, your private doubts and uncertainties are everyone’s.”

oh, the dinner date was okay, but it was when we stood on her street corner talking under my umbrella until the rain stopped that I knew this girl was for me.

P.S. just for future reference: any posts categorized under “writing” are not necessarily autobiographical, although—like all writing—they’re obviously inspired by reality. but what’s real is for me to know, you to find out. =)

“Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness.”
- Bertrand Russell

So apparently people think I’ve been looking really “couply” with girls lately:
- When it was obvious that I was wondering which way my date went, someone said “Your girlfriend is over there.”
- When I walked one of my best friends home late at night and we hugged at good-bye, two random guys said “Rough. No good night kiss?”
- When I was dancing with a friend, another friend asked “Are you dating her?”

Hmmm…

Giselle asked me to list five things I can’t live without. They had to be tangible, so I imagined what five things I would bring to an island. With survival as a given, I said:

1. family and friends
2. books
3. writing (to make it tangible: computer or paper+pencil)
4. music (to make it tangible: computer or mp3 player)
5.

So far on the island I would read and write all day. I would share my writing with people on the island, but I would also hope that it would get published and shared with the rest of the world as part of my legacy, especially after my death.

Music would accompany my reading and writing sessions, as well as my strolls around the island for nature walks. The music would also be an important part of nighttime festivities, especially dances.

And the people I love most would be there for my necessary interactions with other humans (and for the dances).

I already have a feeling I know what my fifth would be, but when I’m completely set on it, I’ll update this post.