Book: Romantic egoist

Critics are in a better position - they can take refuge in someone else's reality. Someone else's film, someone transfer someone else's book, somebody's disk - the perfect sanctuary where you can not think of yourself. The critic does not like to live. Criticism have no personal memories replace the memories of writers, artists. Other people's works to protect it from life. Art replaces life, he doesn't have. The number of inhabitants of our planet who live by this principle is growing all the time. They are in the magical world of critics, where problems disappear, where is the love song becomes the only source of sadness, but of highly refined and artificial as the characters suffer instead of us.

The disadvantage of all other women is that they - not she.

In any case, when I go to the movies with françoise, I like to look at her profile, than on the screen. You got me dizzy - your way. I'm starting to ache the neck: the movie should really be at a height to compare with you. I watch you watching a movie. If you laugh, I decide that the film is funny. If you cry, I think he was touching. But if you yawn, I fall asleep.

It is necessary to reconsider the tenets of colorism, according to which genius can only be samounichtozhitsya. And in fact, the opposite occurs: if you are the genius around you is destroyed (Antonin Artaud guessed that already in 1947: "van Gogh suicide by the hands of society").

- I'd like to kiss her on the lips.
- This little, old man. Need to kiss her lips, shake her hand, to listen to the ear, smell by the nose, to bite in the teeth, step on the foot, shit on ass, look in the eyes and lick my tongue.
- You forgot the most important - "to scratch her nails".

I only love to read, write and make love. Accordingly, for the life of me it would be enough simple Studio on the condition that it will be a bookshelf, a computer and a bed.

Why bother to write something? My masterpieces will be children. Never no book, no disk, no movie compares to their beauty.

Thirty years heterosexuals will become a sexual minority, controversial, unhealthy and outrageous. The streets will be rampant heterophobia. We will be disgusting to see a man kissing a woman passionately on the bench. Same-sex couples will be embarrassed in front of their test tube children. The horror - kiss on the lips, so not like you! How can such pairs to lead a normal life if they are so terribly far apart?

I decided never to be neither selfish nor romantic. Sure to become an alcoholic.

Spoke with a couple of frolicking krestonosec:
- Do you want pacenotes?
Damn. By cash.
- Well, I mean, would you like to marry me and have me pieces of eight children?
There is no answer. I persist:
- Then I'll show you my collection of Scottish skirts and arrange a discount on scarves from Hermes, 30% guarantee.
Kind of a bummer.

We love only when we reject or elude us.

It finally hit me. To remove the calf, the main thing - not to give her endless "no." The most famous seducers are quite average guys. They just accept it when they reject, but then again climb on the rampage. No woman will say "Yes" on the first try. When she sends you away, you have to quietly step aside for five minutes (so that it became excruciatingly painful), and then to come back to try again and so on.

In short, when you're cheating on your wife, you have two options: either you stay with her, but nothing happens, or you throw it and nothing happens still.

We don't want to live the life that our parents provided for us. We too would need to push the boundaries, but too lazy to throw stones.