“On television and through the Internet people are being seduced by the sweetness of illusion and the sweetness of dreams. It is necessary to have that relief, because without it life is too difficult. But I think the amount of fantasy that people are being fed through the media has become disproportionate. I believe in a balance between real life and imagination. Anime should not be just another means of escape.”—NY Times interview with Satoshi Kon (via samehat)
My heart’s aflutter! I am standing in the bath tub crying. Mother, mother who am I? If he will just come back once and kiss me on the face his coarse hair brush my temple, it’s throbbing!
then I can put on my clothes I guess, and walk the streets.
I love you, I love you, but I’m turning to my verses and my heart is closing
like a fist. Words! be sick as I am sick, swoon, roll back your eyes, a pool, and I’ll stare down at my wounded beauty which at best is only a talent for poetry.
Cannot please, cannot charm or win what a poet! and the clear water is thick
with bloody blows on its head I embraced a cloud, but when I soared it rained.
That’s funny! there’s blood on my chest oh yes, I’ve been carrying bricks what a funny place to rupture! and now it is raining on the ailanthus as I step out onto the window ledge the tracks below me are smoky and glistening with a passion for running I leap into the leaves, green like the sea
Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern.
The country is grey and brown and white in trees, snows and skies of laughter always diminishing, less funny not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of the year, what does he think of that? I mean, what do I? And if I do, perhaps I am myself again.