eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,
eglantine_br
eglantine_br

Some wine, and say what's going on

I have been here-- at home. Not feeling very much like the self I want to be. Unable to write, surly, distracted. I made a mistake, see. The book should have warned me, I read the book , over and over, front to back. Loved it, really felt that it was the best thing I had ever read. But after that I needed to put it aside for 20 years.

But the movie came and it looked so good, and the singing, and Russell Crowe... I wanted to see what everyone was talking about. I knew the songs and the story already, what could it hurt?

Well, it was lovely. And I sat here at my desk listening to the songs of angry men, and the power of redemptive love, and dissolving into a pile of sobbing glup. But it was not good for me to watch. All that death, and glory, and little lost girls with buckets. I would do better to stick with frigate battles.

That is the power of stories I think. Humans are just flesh that wants to tell stories, everything else is extra. And some stories can hurt you. Some stories, for some people, are just too much. I poisoned myself. It is going to take a little while for me to get over being a hypervigilant mess who drops dishes.

Also I kept imagining Eponine and Archie together, explaining that cardiac tamponade really doesn't hurt at all.

Tags: fiction, real life
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