tā mentalitāte
26.. Nov, 2008 | 19:22
No:: morphine
Pa vidu obligātās literatūras kalniem atslodzei izvilku no plaukta pārlasīt Koplenda "Life After God".
Es nevaru beigt brīnīties, cik tās sajūtas, ko viņš apraksta, šķiet - savas. Par spīti viņa kanādieša-kosmopolīta mentalitātei. Deviņdesmitajiem un tuksnesim. Nē, varbūt tieši tāpēc.
"Now: I believe that you've had most of your important memories by the time you're thirty. After that, memory becomes water overflowing into an already full cup. New experiences just don't register in the same way or with the same impact. I could be shooting heroin with the Princess of Wales, naked in a crashing jet, and the experience still couldn't compare to the time the cops chased us after we threw the Taylors' patio furniture into their pool in the eleventh grade. You know what I mean.
I think Cathy at some level also felt this way, too - and that she realized all of her important memories would be soon enough taken - that she had X-numbers of years ahead of her of falling for the wrong guys - mistreaters and abusers - and that all of her memory would then be used up in sadness and dead ends and being hurt, and at the end of it all there would be... nothing - no more new feelings."
"There is so much you don't know about me - things I haven't told you - for instance, that I do have a family, that I believe there is a God, that I was once a child - and that I have fallen in love twice and that neither time lasted. But how much of this matters in the end if you are alone. What is our memory? What is our history? How much a part of us is the landscape, and how much are we a part of it?"
"And I was cranky, too, or rather, I would have been cranky if people had been near me. Sometimes you can't realize you are in a bad mood until another person enters your orbit."
Es nevaru beigt brīnīties, cik tās sajūtas, ko viņš apraksta, šķiet - savas. Par spīti viņa kanādieša-kosmopolīta mentalitātei. Deviņdesmitajiem un tuksnesim. Nē, varbūt tieši tāpēc.
"Now: I believe that you've had most of your important memories by the time you're thirty. After that, memory becomes water overflowing into an already full cup. New experiences just don't register in the same way or with the same impact. I could be shooting heroin with the Princess of Wales, naked in a crashing jet, and the experience still couldn't compare to the time the cops chased us after we threw the Taylors' patio furniture into their pool in the eleventh grade. You know what I mean.
I think Cathy at some level also felt this way, too - and that she realized all of her important memories would be soon enough taken - that she had X-numbers of years ahead of her of falling for the wrong guys - mistreaters and abusers - and that all of her memory would then be used up in sadness and dead ends and being hurt, and at the end of it all there would be... nothing - no more new feelings."
"There is so much you don't know about me - things I haven't told you - for instance, that I do have a family, that I believe there is a God, that I was once a child - and that I have fallen in love twice and that neither time lasted. But how much of this matters in the end if you are alone. What is our memory? What is our history? How much a part of us is the landscape, and how much are we a part of it?"
"And I was cranky, too, or rather, I would have been cranky if people had been near me. Sometimes you can't realize you are in a bad mood until another person enters your orbit."