Passion simple
最新书摘：
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连木木2023-08-24I could end the book here and pretend that nothing that goes on in the world or in my life could affect this text. In other words, I could consider it removed from time and ready for publication. However, so long as these pages remain personal and within my reach, as they are today, the act of writing will be open. I feel it is more important to mention certain recent developments than to alter the position of an adjective.
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连木木2023-08-24(Am I the only woman to return to the scene of an abortion? Sometimes I wonder if the purpose of my writing is to f ind out whether other people have done or felt the same things or, if not, for them to consider experiencing such things as normal. Maybe I would also like them to live out these very emotions in turn, forgetting that they had once read about them somewhere.)
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连木木2023-08-24I felt like rereading one or the other of the books I had skimmed through when A was there. I felt that the waiting and the dreams of that period had crystallized within the pages and that I would rediscover my passion, intact. Yet I was reluctant to do so, postponing the moment when I would open the first page, almost out of superstition, as if Anna Karenina were some esoteric work in which it would be forbidden to turn a particular page on pain of ill fortune.
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连木木2023-08-24Yet, when I began to write, I wanted to stay in that age of passion, when all my actions—from the choice of a film to the selection of a lipstick—were channeled towards one person. The past tense used in the first part of the book suggests endless repetition and conveys the belief that “life was better in those days.” It also generated a pain that was to replace the past trauma of waiting for his phone calls and visits.
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连木木2023-08-24I reflected that there was very little difference between this reconstruction and a hallucination, between memory and madness.
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连木木2023-08-24My whole body ached. I would have liked to tear out the pain but it was everywhere.
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连木木2023-08-24(It is a mistake therefore to compare someone writing about his own life to an exhibitionist,since the latter has only one desire: to show himself and to be seen at the same time.)
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连木木2023-08-24Naturally I feel no shame in writing these things because of the time which separates the moment when they are written—when only I can see them—from the moment when they will be read by other people, a moment which I feel will never come.
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连木木2023-08-24I felt I was giving in to physical pleasure, as if the brain, exposed to a repeated flow of the same images and memories,could achieve an orgasm, becoming a sexual organ like the others.
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连木木2023-08-24(Naturally, I soon dismissed the idea that our liaison might appear dangerous to him—in films, any passion existing outside marriage invariably ends in disaster.)
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连木木2023-08-24Later I realized that this situation spared me the illusion that we shared a perfect relationship, or even formed a whole.
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连木木2023-08-24I could experience only absence or presence. I am merely listing the signs of a passion, wavering between “one day” and “every day,” as if this inventory could allow me to grasp the reality of my passion.
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连木木2023-08-24During all this time, I felt I was living out my passion in the manner of a novel but now I’m not sure in which style I am writing about it: in the style of a testimony, possibly even the sort of confidence one finds in women’s magazines, a manifesto or a statement, or maybe a critical commentary.
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连木木2023-08-24Those conversations, when I had continually responded to the other person by saying “me too, it’s the same for me, I did that too,” suddenly seemed futile, removed from the reality of my own passion. Rather, something was lost through these outbursts.
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连木木2023-08-24I tried not to betray my obsession by words, although to exercise such self-control continually is extremely taxing.
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连木木2023-08-24Quite often I felt I was living out this passion in the same way I would have written a book: the same determination to get every single scene right, the same minute attention to detail. I could even accept the thought of dying providing I had lived this passion through to the very end—without actually def ining “to the very end”—in the same way I could die in a few months’ time after finishing this book.
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连木木2023-08-24(The same would have applied to me in the case of obscene words belonging to his language.)
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连木木2023-08-24We were burning up a capital of desire. What we gained in physical intensity we lost in time.
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连木木2023-08-24Now I was only time flowing through myself.
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连木木2023-08-24Astonished, I asked myself: “Where is the present?”