...Love and truth, that's the vital connection, love and truth. Have you ever told so much truth as when you were first in love? Have you ever seen the world so clearly? Love makes us see the truth, makes it our duty to tell the truth. Lying in bed: listen to the undertow of warning in that phrase. Lying in bed, we tell the truth: it sounds like a paradoxical sentence from a first-year philosophy primer. But it's more (and less) than that: a description of moral duty. Don't roll that eyeball, give a flattering grown, fake that orgasm. Tell the truth with your body even if - especially if - that truth is not melodramatic. Bed is one of the prime places where you can lie without getting caught, where you can holler and grunt in the dark and later boast about your 'performance'. Sex isn't acting (however much we admire our own script); sex is about truth. How you cuddle in the dark governs how you see the history of the world. It's as simple as that. (...)
We must be precise about love. Ah, you want descriptions, perhaps? What are her legs like, her breasts, her lips, what colour is that hair? (Well, sorry.) No, being precise about love means attending to the heart, its pulses, its certainties, its truth, its power - and its imperfections. After death the heart becomes a pyramid (it has always been one of the wonders of the world); but even in life the heart was never heart-shaped. (...)
It's our only hope even if it fails us, although it fails us, because it fails us. (...)
And so it is with love. We must believe in it, or we're lost. We may not obtain it, or we may obtain it and find it renders us unhappy; we must still believe in it. If we don't, then we merely surrender to the history of the world and to someone else's truth.
It will go wrong, this love; it probably will. That contorted organ, like the lump of ox meat, is devious and enclosed. Our current model of the universe is entropy, which at the daily level translated as: things fuck up. But when love fails us, we must still go on believing in it. Is it encoded in every molecule that things fuck up, that love will fail? Perhaps it is. Still we must believe in love, just as we must believe in free will and objective truth. And when love fails, we should blame the history of the world. If only it had left us alone, we could have been happy, we could have gone on being happy. Our love has gone, and it is the fault of the history of the world.
Julian Barnes, "Parenthesis" in History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters
;) We had a great weekend. 10th month anniversary on saturday. We ordered Chinese food in friday (dunno 'bout authentic, but it was GOOD!!! and i don't usually like chinese good. "Chinese gardens" i think, in parkway mall, vic park & ellesmere) and watched Jay & Silent Bob. (Then much fun- no one does it quite like Rick.) Got up saturday morning, watched special features of J. & S.B., had leftover shanghai noodles & chicken curry, more fun. Tried to do linguistics homework, couldn't, buggered it. More fun, lots of cuddling (it's been a very cuddly weekend :) Made chili and pasta for dinner (cooperative cooking venture), watched Bond (the one with Jane Seymour, kinda crappy), gave up, more fun. Got up this morning, lots of PB&J sandwiches (only gained 1.5 lbs, not bad) going to bathroom every 5 minutes, eventually got to Fairview, went to the pet store twice, wandered around for a couple of hours talking about the kittens we're gonna get. :) great weekend.
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