Thursday, May 3, 2012



I spend way too much time being aware of the human drama especially when it comes to romantic relationships. In the past I used to think (naively) that that kind of drama, the humiliating stuff I gossip about or try to quietly go through myself, is so characteristic of now - "now" being the past few decades. You know, emancipated women, sex always on TV and so on. But it had always existed and I love reading about it. It comforts me to know that people have always cheated, lied, left their partners for others or simply vanished. Maybe it's not so much immoral behaviour but just normal human dynamic? When two people are unhappy all kinds of uncomfortable things can happen but it doesn't mean that only one of them is in the right.

Houellebecq ended his latest book with the sentence "The triumph of vegetation is total" - it  killed me because it tied together the previous three hundred pages so well it's almost like he was making fun of me all along. He mocks the predictability of one's artistic process and impulse by carefully describing a full cycle of personal creation ending exactly where it began - with drawings of flowers and nature. Whatever maybe it doesn't make sense to you but I don't want to give away all the details and you should just read it yourself. It certainly isn't as sexy as his other novels but when I read his description of flower copulation a week ago on the bus it gave me a serious boner?! The fact that this time it's flowers and not a threesome with a Cuban maid in a seaside hotel room that provoked the same reaction makes it even more remarkable. 

Fuck, words. Did you know that my most common google-search item is "define______". As in the dictionary. I also ask grammar questions on language forums. English, I am still learning you.

Speaking of human drama - here's a sad little story for you where a full cycle makes an appearance:



Lucian Freud in his studio


"In 1952 Freud began an affair with Guinness beer heiress and writer Lady Caroline Blackwood. They married in 1953 and divorced in 1959. She is said to have been the only woman who truly broke his heart. After their divorce, his friends noticed a change in him; he began drinking heavily and getting into fights. Francis Bacon became concerned that he was suicidal. In 1970 Blackwood began a relationship with the manic-depressive poet Robert Lowell. Their chaotic, emotionally harrowing times together led to a sequence of poems collected in Lowell's book, The Dolphin, for which he won a Pulitzer Prize in 1973. Blackwood's anxieties, alcohol-related illnesses, and late-night tirades exacerbated his mental condition until he made a final, traumatizing break with her in 1977. Lowell died in the back seat of a New York cab on his way to reunite with his second wife, Elizabeth Hardwick, clutching in his hands one of Freud’s portraits of Blackwood." 

(that was stolen more or less from Clint Roenisch's post from a week or so ago, I'm too lazy to write my own). 

Lucian Freud

Caroline Blackwood

LF and CB

Robert Lowell

RL and CB



"Surprisingly" it was Blackwood who spent her life in sickness and as an alcoholic and eventually died of cancer at 64. Freud with his big unforgettable heartbreak lived to be 88 and died only last summer. Here are some beautiful paintings he made of her. I've been listening to Nirvana and old house music all day. And now it's night time - time for a nice relaxing 10k run, good bye friends!!!






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