i bit from kundera i liked
love begins with a metaphor.
which is to say, love begins at the point when
a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory.
unrelated noted
on the plane to atlanta i sat next to a mid-fifties married couple who had that subtle saturation of cigarette smoke and the voice that spoke of its own accord that they live in a gross cycle of putting up with work to afford more cigarettes and alcohol. they are heading to miami for a cruise--she Loves cruises. she loves the utter lack of responsibility (her only real job on board is to "drag him out of bars"). i imagine they are both weathered middle-persons in some sort of really bad distributing company. they sell conveyor belt parts to dirty chicken factories by day and facilitate cock-fights and meth lab suppliers at night, i think. i have a lot other thoughts about them...stories about stuff theyve done and their friends and why they like cruises so much etc. maybe later.
all i have to say is this:
this is me at the wedding..i was SHOOTING. i was being paid to act like this.