Book: Крысоlove

the most beloved drama - is a story about - as you love the person too much. too. some kind of monstrous love. love that burns and floods your insides like a fire or waterfall. as you like it. and you know that too - and if you are going to allow yourself to open up - then you will flood and burn everything around - his fire and waterfall. and you love - and can't afford to burn and drown. therefore, begin - vices and chains. when myself twisting and grind out - to a loved one - not to lose all this weight and the spontaneity and horror. with a fake smile happily boast that last night I was with another man. easily say rudeness and vulgarity and you never hurt. so everything easier. to pretend that there is no fire or waterfalls, but only the stillness and quiet. and we are all people-people. slowly spill elements on both sides - not to bring down something that expensive. in fact, this is the most terrible that man can create.

I understand that there are inexplicable Association, for example, amaze me the people that convey the expression - "in the mouth of the cat shat" - I can't even say it, I organoleptics held steadily on the verbal, written here - and - wrong, and some about myself is talking out loud.

He blinked, yawned, and fell asleep, not even noticing that I am for these moments performed all the rituals of the thousand and two nights (one night in reserve - and suddenly a leap year), all the songs, dances and tales and other pandemonium. He performed or was ready to perform - what a difference. I have collected and wanted to give him everything at once, and he began to snore, cigarettes are not put out.

"I love you" - a very inconvenient words, they need to be answered. And you swallow them along with sperm and do not say out loud.... And you cry, cry, because nobody loves no one. Because it is bad form.

Being away from the man, on the third day itself push out to other guests to give him a break from me. To be able to go back through the day.
There is still trenchant. It happens that I was forced to invent other men in great detail that this is the only man in today's life - not afraid of their uniqueness for me. And how! It's requires.

At the forefront is unreliability, which is called ease or freedom.
Out of fear to be weak or to seem Intrusive.

A man should be lazy. Slow and lazy. Hard. Rigid and solid.
Confident, but not arrogant. Calm, but not indifferent. Smart, but not boring. Sensitive but not sentimental. Cynical, but not selfish. Friendly, but not naive. Forgiving, but not forgiving. Cautious, but not cowardly. Candid, but not old-fashioned is straightforward.
I would light him a cigarette, sitting on the floor at his feet. Or in bed in his legs. I would love to hear it. I have little to say myself. And in bed and all would be not needed.
He would understand a lot about food, but would not be capricious. Would understand a lot about drinking, but would not be an alcoholic. Would understand a lot about literature, but it wouldn't be a writer. Would understand a lot about the movie... and so on... would Understand a lot about life, but wouldn't be dead. Just understand a lot!
He had strong convictions, but he'd be tolerant of other people's.
A man appreciates the tactile sensation.
The word "comfort" in his language would not scale and wealth. And convenient things, furniture, clothes, nice things.

Happiness is you. Happiness is when your heartbeat is my breath.

The most heinous things in the world is a compromise. When you can't get all agree - slices or "tomorrow". In the end, you tease this "piece", and you dance on his hind legs, joyful already a promise may be given, at least tomorrow. Forgetting that in actual fact you need all at once.

- If you can't be lovers, why don't you just not be friends?
- Make friends?! To become friends with her! Have you tried to make friends with coke? Or at least with whiskey?

Unpretentious in food man - unpretentious and sex.
I used to think that I'm so miserable without him that will come in and immediately become happy.
But at night, I was still Smoking a cigarette and crying on the balcony, and knew that beside him I am more acutely miserable and alone than when alone.

My loneliness has a taste and aroma. The sharp taste of permanence. The sweet aroma of faithfulness. I'm comfortable to know that it is always with me.