Lars

I might as well let people think that I am a delight; it can be easy to blend in without having to tell lies. You just smile and keep your mouth shut. The smile, however, refers to some funny, mischievous thought or picture you have in mind and no one will ever know what it is.

I just ripped out a small article about Lars von Trier joking about being a nazi. You remember when he was at the Cannes Fest sitting next to Kirsten Dunst? Do you remember the look on her face? I know what type of a person Lars is; he doesn’t tell jokes; and unaware of this inappropriate dark comedy approach in front of a conventional crowd with boring moral codes, he was doomed to cause another scandal. And this is why he is brilliant. His remarks are not meant to insult and yet, ‘people’ think otherwise.
This is why introverts don’t talk much.
In the article he claims: “I do not possess the skills to express myself unequivocally…”
Lars, people like us don’t express ourselves with the spoken word; we use art and therefore what we express is stronger than every word spoken.
I also don’t blame him for refraining from giving any more interviews. Who likes interviews anyways? People who seek attention, of course. Unlike them, we seek attention by inspiring the ambitious. We don’t fool them into capitalism and mindless consumerism, not with ulterior motives.

Funny that when telling people that I’m a writer, they instinctively think I write romance for the masses. It’s hilarious. When I mention ‘transgressive fiction’ they don’t get it. So I keep on saying that I write obscene stuff that people don’t talk about. And you can tell how squeamish they get only after hearing the term ‘obscene’.

As you may have noticed, I’ve learnt a lot from Dexter. It does make life a lot easier to blend in occasionally, especially if you have to deal with dozens of people who only care about their own business and all they need from you is a little hint of positive attitude – no matter if feigned or not. They only need to see that you appear to fit in. Most are too blind or too indifferent to check what’s behind your back anyway or what’s lurking beneath the surface. To my luck, not many people are interested anyway, and some don’t even see it. I can’t tell whether it’s a good thing or not. Maybe there are more than two who accept me for who I am.

Whoever enters my room complains of it being cold. I sleep with windows half open and they’re half open throughout the day, unless I’m out. Yes, my room is cold and so are my hands, even if the heating is on. The heat doesn’t reach me. Like the blood never reaches my fingertips. Maybe I’m still boiling up at a certain spot in my body. I don’t know how long the green tea will keep me calm.
And well, I’m still not plagued by a cold because I eat more fruits than you do.

Now that it is autumn, everyone’s ill and whenever I’m on the tube in the morning, I am plagued by people’s morning breaths and farts. The only problem I have with autumn is that people are prone to colds and the last thing I need is people sharing their germs in the underground. I never hold on to anything when on the tube. If it gets shaky I pretend I’m surfing, I try to predict the next shaky movement, so I know where to load my weight. You may call me crazy, but I’m really not keen on your germs, really not. I’d rather you choke on them and burn.

It’s hell jogging in this wind. The smell of the autumn air is wonderful, except for the piercing wind inducing tears and runny nose. Running and crying at the same time makes you look like you’re turning your back on something. When running around the cemetery, I see crying angels, which doesn’t help.
Maybe it’s time to sign up at the gym again.

How I hate not having my own toilet. In the morning I go to the toilet about 5 times, because I drink gallons of water and green tea. So my landlady always sees me walking into the bathroom. She thinks I have chronic diarrhoea.

Someone told me that I shouldn’t expose too much, because there are a lot of people out there who will use the exposure against me, even friends. As I said before, there is no one in your life who wouldn’t use anything against you. Even your best friend would use your negative traits against you in an argument. But it’s only natural, isn’t it? I never know what natural behaviour is to you and what’s not.

Shaking.
It’s not always a sign of fever.

Melancholia left me with certain sentiments:
I feel so attracted to you, you rouse my female parts into action, make my nipples sore, but what’s the point? You’re going to crush me, destroy me anyway with that shimmering light of yours. You eliminate my existence for you cannot control yourself. Me – the only life that you’ve ever known. But I won’t run away, I can’t. Swallow me now and I’ll make your heart burn; the most painful heartburn you’ve ever experienced.

If we were to die today a sense of unfulfillment would forever leave us incomplete, wouldn’t it? Even as particles of the cold, we’d glide and move on until we’ve found a place that has space for hope.

Do you remember the fat man in the red suit with tartan patterns? I still haven’t quite overcome my fear of him. Sometimes in bed, I listen to The Cure’s ‘Lullaby’ on repeat, and that’s when I feel his cold breath behind my ear. I wonder what E. would do. She has nightmares, too, except that I’d class my problem as hypnagogic paranoia.

I still have to figure out who my sweetest friend is. The one to tell me what I have become.

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