“He loved her, but he wanted to shake her awake, or slap her out of her straight-backed music-stand poise, her North Oxford proprieties, and make her see how really simple it was: here was boundless sensual freedom, theirs for the taking, even blessed by the vicar—with my body I thee worship—a dirty, joyous, bare-limbed freedom, which rose in his imagination like a vast airy cathedral, ruined perhaps, roofless, fan-vaulted to the skies, where they would weightlessly drift upward in a powerful embrace and have each other, drown each other in waves of breathless, mindless ecstasy. It was so simple! Why weren’t they up there now, instead of sitting here, bottled up with all the things they did not know how to say or dared not do?
“And what stood in their way? Their personalities and pasts, their ignorance and fear, timidity, squeamishness, lack of entitlement or experience or easy manners, then the tail end of a religious prohibition, their Englishness and class, and history itself. Nothing much at all.”
—Ian Mc Ewan, On Chesil Beach
"I'm gonna bathe and shave
And dress myself, and eat solo every night.
Unplug the phone, sleep alone
Stay away out of sight.
Sure, it's kind of lonely,
Yeah, it's sort of sick:
Being your own one and only
Is a dirty selfish trick."
—Loudon Wainwright III, "One Man Guy"
And in case you hadn't heard, go see Knocked Up. Ol' Loudon has written the soundtrack. So go see it. Right now. Stop whatever you are doing (I know it can't be any damn use) and go see it. Make my job mean something.
I promise I'll post here more, if that means anything.