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Missed moments

2/25/2015

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Are there really missed moments?
Yes, yes, yes.
In my mind they are missed moments and they destroy my life, every time a little more. I am not wise. I am not Proust and I have not learnt how to find lost time again. I just keep on losing it, and it drives me crazy, every time a little more.
And just yesterday evening before bedtime I thought I am over boys now, definitely into men. But there is no connection.

You say are you home and I am not.
You say envelopes and I went running.
I don't dare offer to pick you up lest you turn me down because  you don't want to bother me.
Is there any hope for us?
No, no and no.

Everything is always and will always be just wrong.

I know already that I am fundamentally wrong in the universe and that all the things I do, have done and even those I haven't done are wrong, should have been done differently. I should have tried more, with someone else maybe, and certainly at another time. OR NOT EVEN.
But then again, two other possibilities.
I am just so unimportant that even if you are the most important person to me it is worth nothing.
In the scene in Birdman, Emma Stone shouts that you are not important and that you should get over it. That's something she says because her father doesn't care about her, or at least she thinks he doesn't, or the movie itself wants to say that that's the reason why she screams like that. And also in her sobriety camp she was supposed to learn humility by writing the numbers on toilet paper.

So, as it will never be normal or relaxed, I thought like an idiot that I am, and I missed it again. I thought it would be weird and you would feel uncomfortable and therefore I would not be able to jump and explode with sheer happiness to see you just to know you are back because you are the happiness on Earth for me. But maybe it would have been like that. We will never know because of course I spoiled it again. In the course of the last years I have learnt that it is better if I suggest nothing because you don't say no if I don't say nothing. But this time it was wrong. I should have offered and I had the message written on the phone and I even told you that and I bet that was wrong again and it makes you invite other women into our house again. Other women who are nicer and smarter and who do the right thing at the right time, not like me, walking through the town, ripping out her hair.

Today would have been the only hopefully last chance of a missed moment where I could have come to pick you up and we could have been happy, for once. We will never be happy. I will always spoil it, always think when I should act, and the other way around. But I spoiled it again. I wish to God and the Universe that I will not have to go through this again, that you find a good other person who acts right and is patient and is there when you need her and that is not fundamentally wrong in the universe. An eternity of lonely nights for me, and an eternity of joyful right pleasurable patient and lively company for you. Good-bye. Please forget me, I will forget myself and just die inside.

I think I know where this whole terribleness comes from. Some families are not like that, but in mine there was this demon that I caught, because I am the weakest.
The father, the man, expects some things from his chosen woman. She needs to be independent, and sexy, and have some undefined strength to provide him with the "repos du guerrier". Then she fails, and he goes out looking for alternatives. That does not make him happy either because most of the women are disappointments. Then, the daughters take it all, they get sick or depressed or become unable to enjoy anything or find purpose, fill up life with things that are important and nice, like men can, they don't worry so much, they put the blame on the woman, and the blame is gone from them, it's on her.

In swiched at birth another educational show for me that teaches about problems people have. Especially teenagers. But it is still most interesting how they react to things. Daphne has a chance for a casual sex relationship and turns it down after thinking it through, very matter of factly, the way she does things, not crying or recoiling or hoping things get better by themselves like I do. She just walks right in there and complains that he behaved like he barely knew her. And that he did not indtroduce her to his friends.
Although he invited her over in front of them, I thought that was very nice. She seemed to have no emotions at all. She just said she wants to have conversations outside the bedroom. And he says that's called a relationship. She wants one, he doesn't. So simple. Matter of fact. And it sounded so simple, so fast. Two people meet and they talkd and they have sex and that's a relationship. Maybe it is just so simple. Why do we complicate things then? One, and one, then two, and then if it doesn't work out, next one? Is it not that simple?Even without emotions, without paying real attention. He said he has a broken heart. That becomes a stereotype in romantic tv-shows. He has a broken heart and wants to protect it. Do women ever do that? Do women ever say things like that? Or do we know that it doesn't make sense to protect your heart, because that hurts so much more because then time stops and moments get spoiled. And things become weird and have a fake taste.

Well, I guess it is good to say things like that; to complain when there is something wrong. But in movies it is always easier, without the whole innuendo, the whole shades of grey of everything, the whole emotional range that is involved in a relation between two people. And I always try to understand most of them before I do something, which makes me cry a lot and makes me be lonely a lot and makes me write a lot and appear weird a lot. But well, that's the way I am. And no one really knows what to do with that. Least of all people, you.

But I was so happy to see you this morning. So, so happy.  To hug and kiss you. As always, when I see you. You make the heart warm inside and the home complete again.
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let's not do that

2/21/2015

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It is just. When you go away it always makes me sad. And when someone else spends the night, too.
I don't even know why I say someone else. I don't ever spend the night.
After the accident, I thought you would come and hug me. But it is usually wrong when I think something like that. All the time in my head it said if it had happened to you I would have driven home right away and hugged you and said things will be alright. But you didn't do that. You came home late, and you checked my car, you didn't come upstairs or hug me. I suppose that's the right way to do it. I had decided to be grateful when things happen that make me sad because it usually means that I misunderstood something  and when I think some more it makes sense again, and of course you don't want to hurt me. I need to relax more. I have no idea why everything became unnatural and I rethink everything before I act and then I don't know what to do. Oh yes, I know my mother said I should not act on impulse but think beforehand. But that advice made everything unnatural.
Yesterday, everybody said again that you don't care about me. But I know that's wrong.
I really needed a hug. Preferably from you, but from anyone really. I was so scared. But all everybody said was I should go see a doctor if headaches persist. Sure, I will do that. But to have someone hug and kiss you, that is priceless and that is also not an emergency you can claim. Although there are people now who are professional huggers. How sad is that.
And things have been so much better between us lately. A slow process as you say. But well, as it is with processes, they don't improve in a straight line. In a way I was waiting for something bad to happen. And the bad things that happen are usually, you leaving, you saying "honestly..." or some other woman.  I am afraid I spoiled it again by acting spoiled. You ask a lot of going outward and understanding. I still think we have the best connection and the best potential for harmonious coexistence in the universe. It is just sometimes hard. Especially when the head hurts a little and it is scary to have a car bump into you from behind, like in an autodrom. Someday I want to take you to Vienna, and show you how things were.
A few days by myself here without worrying about your comings and goings may actually not be so bad. But when you say it, it always sounds so dramatic. But at least you told me this time, you gave me a heads up about things. And that's good. I guess. Tomorrow I will trust you a little more. And tomorrow I will relax a little more. And everyday a little more.
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car

2/20/2015

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headache. someone bumped into me, stopped too abruptly. not a very good day yesterday then. the car is fine, thanks.
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yesterday was worth it

2/19/2015

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There is too much mind in my body still and this makes the pleasure difficult. Concerned, as always, you said. When one is absorbed in something, work, pleasure, love, there is only this and awareness concentrated on the action so much that it is not aware to be aware of the action. I have tried to say this with simple words so many times. The words are not the problem, they are simple enough. Steven Pinker today in his talk said that people have clear ideas and don't express them clearly. My professor Pierre Magnard always said the opposite; as long as your idea is not clear you will write gibberish. And I have always followed his advice and tried to rewrite and rethink until it is readable.
Sometimes it is a very small very sudden twist in reality that makes something that was difficult for a while easy suddenly. And no, no, no, it is not always all my fault.
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secret happiness

2/17/2015

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When it is so secret that nobody knows it, is it really there?
But you smiled at me today. Like you really meant it. No headtilt, no hidden guilt, no obvious, "ugh, she is gonna ask something again that I don't wanna do". None of that. As if we really got along. And maybe we actually do.
The practical side of threshold thinking asks for another challenge in concentration. The letting go of theory. I have tried writing towards that through the book all along, but now I have to do it. And I ask all of you who write with me about dancing and biking and falling into holes, try to get away from the theory, try to focus on where the body leaves the mind and where the mind leaves the body. Yes, it is sort of a religious experience. This is precisely what it is.
Like making love.
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more and more snow

2/15/2015

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A good year with a lot of snow. And solitude, too. 
I don't know where I stop and where you start. We are one another's threshold and each other's mirror, and then we are one again. But we are all parts, everything is just a piece. Why do I always aim at everything, although I know that the whole can never be reached, it stays in the background, for ever there but never seen completely. We all move in parts, pieces of reality, pieces of truth, one with the other, connecting thresholds. I should know that, but still, I get sad because of the absence of sensing the whole, there must be some Heidegger traces in my thought after all. He was also concerned with that.
I put this snow note in for a Sunday after Valentine's day, although it is the best day of love it is again filled with white isolation.

Friendly neighbors help with shoveling and ask where you are. You are being a friendly neighbor somewhere else.
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cars in the snow

2/11/2015

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Envelopes

2/11/2015

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Actually this was supposed to be another snow day post for February 9, a week exactly after the first snow day post there was another snow day and now the day has passed and I have forgotten most of it. My short term memory is bad. There was something involving white hot chocolate. Today the snow has lifted and there was even a little bit of sun and I could go running although the track is full of snow so I ran around it and looked at the houses. There is one with a purple lining around the door. We could paint a little this year, after the snow.
Envelopes. You said envelopes again, two years after the first time. Thank you. Never get mad about missed moments, though. Kicking snow walls is so useless. But you said envelopes. That's what counts.

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Snow day threshold

2/2/2015

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"That's the movies, Ed! Try reality!"

"No thanks."

Today is a day like any other day. Only it is a snow day. Lots and lots of snow. Yesterday the patriots won the super bowl and today is another day where we don't get along where I don't thank you for your concern and don't wait long enough before screaming or throwing things on the wall. Or maybe I will.

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    I am a writer and philosopher with thresholds

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