a perfect cheesy montage: great moments of love in the movies.
This is Hamilton Hudson. We used to huddle under bridges recreationally and wander around town at obscene hours. We used to watch Star Wars and paint each other’s eyelids bright colors (via “you were my brother, anakin. i loved you!”) We slurped bubble tea.
This was all in high school, of course.
tambourines.
stunning
this reminds me of the day last winter that it snowed in north carolina. it was a day of great, great joy. I woke Sam up first because I thought he’d like it best if i woke him up first. It was January 20th, but we pretended it was Christmas and listened to Bing Crosby. Then we walked to Nate’s, where I tapped Nate’s shoulder and said his name repeatedly, and finally he woke up.
why are you here, he asked.
wake up nate it’s christmas, i said.
he flicked the blinds back and looked out the window and everything was white. WHITE! and his eyes lit up. you’re right, he said, it’s christmas, a white christmas.
I imagine a phonic conspiracy between the world’s languages. They make a conference decision that the phrase must always sound like something to be earned, to be striven for, to be worthy of. Ich liebe dich: a late-night, cigarette-voiced whisper, with that happy rhyme of subject and object. Je t’aime: a different procedure, with the subject and object being got out of the way first, so that the long vowel of adoration can be savoured to the full. (The grammar is also one of reassurance: with the object positioned second, the beloved isn’t suddenly going to turn out to be someone different.) Ya tebya lyublyu: the object once more in consoling second position, but this time — despite the hinting rhyme of subject and object — an implication of difficulty, obstacles to be overcome. Ti amo: it sounds perhaps a bit too much like an aperitif, but is full of structural conviction with subject and verb, the doer and the deed, enclosed in the same word.
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| — | Julian Barnes, A History of the World in 10 ½ Chapters |
