On beauty and love (I)

A few years ago I created a Google Form and shared it on different social networks just to see what would happen. In it, I asked people to talk about the people they fell in love with or about the things that made them fall in love with people. Since it was anonymous, I specified that respondents should be as sincere as possible. To my surprise, I received plenty of responses that seemed very encouraging at that time.

The first question in the survey asked respondents to talk about what they saw in their significant other. And this is what I got:

I admire the man he is despite hardships he’s experienced. He’s kind and sweet, even if a little rough around the edges. I love his creativity and his mind, and his blue eyes.

“Protection, humor, goodness.”

“A nugget of purity in a corrupted world. Honest eyes. The ability of being so goddamn cool without posing. A curious mind.”


“My best friend and sometimes my enemy.”

“I see him as a friend, a boyfriend, a lover and a husband. He is different from me (he is more pacific, I’m a tornado) but we are at the same time similar, we shares values, ways of thinking and we have something special that links us. It is difficult to explain.”

“Chemistry, magic, smell, a sexy voice, a stimulating dialogue, the fact that we share a life, in its wholeness.”

“I am in two relationships, actually, and I love both. I respect both. Both make me feel safe, although in very different ways: one gives me security; the other adventure. But I know I can count on both. One makes me feel loved, the other makes me feel desired (although I know that the first wants me, and the second cares for me). In some sense they look alike, similar beautiful greenish eyes. One of them seems fragile, but he’s a rock. The other seems strong and powerful, but I am beginning to understand his utter and dangerous fragility. At the end of the day I realise that, although I like feeling cared for, it is me who ultimately cares for and protect them, both.”

“Gli occhi, la voce, se ha un moto di gentilezza nei miei confronti, se vuole sinceramente aiutarmi senza credermi un inetto, se hai dei bei piedi, se gli piace leggere e fare un po’ il cazzaro… che abbia rispetto per la propria famiglia e la mia, se è sincero con me, se ha l’addome deformato, se ha un pisello nella media, se è in grado di comprendere i miei silenzi senza forzarli, aspettando che riesca ad aprirmi a lui.”

“Sinceramente, vivo una relazione con una persona che trovo sempre più diversa da me. Con lui mi sento al sicuro, è un ragazzo forte.”

“Una persona da amare e che mi ama, con cui condividere il mio quotidiano, sia nei momenti di fatica, sia in quelli di divertimento, gioia o tristezza. Un compagno di vita.”

“Me stessa.”

“I see a Partner who can bear with me through thick and thin.”

“A partner in crime, a friend, a beautiful lover, an awesome father.”

“I see a person who wants to be with me and likes me they way I am.”

“The admirable way he is unapologetically himself. The sparkle in his eyes when he looks at me.”

“Kindness. Laughter.”

“I always thought him more attractive than the average humans walking the Earth. When we first met, I found myself comparing him to every Hollywood actor I ever had a crush on and I witnessed myself falling for his looks as he annoyingly overshadowed each and every one of them. My list specifically included a young Colin Firth and Jon Hamm. He does in fact have a Hollywood smile and a soldier s allure, both complimented by a genuine unawareness of his beauty (that s a gorgeous trait always). I also love his weird coloured eyes (I believe that greenish light brown is called hazel) and his wavy kinda vintage haircut.”

“My future in his eyes.”

“The possibility to communicate on a very complex and emotional level.”

“A person I can trust and who takes care of me.”

“Vedo la persona con cui potrei stare tutta la vita. È sia il mio amato che il mio migliore amico.”

“I see a person who gives me peace and from whom I can learn everyday.”

“I’m in two real relationships. On one of them I feel challenged in an intelectual level and motivated to DO things, to move the world. The other one give me well being, it is my beautiful island away from this chaotic world.”

“Someone that understands me.”

“Inspiration and a way to improve myself.”

“Not in a relationship, except the one with my cat.”

“Confort, security, stability.”

“Besides her personality, also the small things, like the way I smile when I think about her or being physically close to her, the way she smiles after I kiss her or all the funny little things she does that she probably doesn’t even knows etc.”

“A trusted person, that loves me, that I can rely on.”

“Quanto sia capace di capirmi, quanto sia aperto mentalmente, e che mi attragga fisicamente.”

“The only person I can tolerate this life with.”

“Un punto di forza.”

Dear straight people

I get it. You’re in love. But could you stop kissing and touching in front of everybody else? It makes me uncomfortable. You’re doing it while waiting for the bus. You’re doing it on TV. I get it, really, but this is getting out of hand, because there’s no place where I could hide from you. At times, I feel as if you’re doing it on purpose. As if to spite me.

You’re posting pictures of you two kissing by the sea, by the refrigerator, at dinner. Seriously, it’s like watching a sex scene in a movie on TV while your parents are there, right beside you. You’re kissing in my books, in the TV commercials I see everywhere. How can I even dream of wearing a perfume advertised by a man who makes women fall at his feet? I don’t want the women, I just want the nice perfume. I want men to fall at my feet (yes, while I’m wearing stilettos and leather pants). Don’t you get that? Seriously, stop looking at each other as if you’re telling each other you’re gonna have maddening sex when you get home because I can see it. No, I can’t see you having sex, I don’t even want to, but I can see the look and it makes me nervous. As if I’m the one who’s going to have sex with you.

You’re doing it in the library while I’m studying. It’s distracting, because you’re right there in front of me and my eyes tend to drift, especially when there’s a man and a woman cuddling in front of me. It’s a library, for fuck’s sake. It’s where people go to study. If it was supposed to be something other than a library it would have been called “cuddling room”, or some other straight-sounding vaguely-sexual term you invent for tantric reasons. Yeah, I can see you kissing his neck, because I’m right in front of you. I mean, it’s okay to look at your neighbor’s screen every once in a while on a long flight, because it’s so shiny, and it has moving pictures, but you’re not a movie on a screen on a long haul flight. I can hear the sucking noises while you’re kissing, because it’s a library and it’s very silent inside, because it’s supposed to be like that. Even if I’m trying over here, really trying, to read something I can still hear you.

You got married, well, good for you. I’m really happy for you, and hope it won’t end in self-loathing and divorce. But please stop showing me how happy you are, and what a great smile she has in that custom-fit designer dress (which I would so like to wear at one point in my life), and how playful you men are when your best friend is getting married and you feign pity for him because marriage is like a third job, which mostly the woman will have to take because boys will be boys and they can’t stop playing with their pee-pees in the bathtub.

You got an engagement ring? I’m so happy for you, but could you stop shoving it into my face? If you take away the love what remains of the ring? The money you no longer have, because you gave it away to buy a ring. You just had a baby? No picture of your baby is ever going to wash away the knowledge that when they’re little they vomit, crap the shit out of them all day long, and when they’re fully grown they will hate you for not making them more beautiful, giving them more money, or buying them the latest gadget. Nothing will make me suspend that knowledge, not even intellectual curiosity. Love your children, don’t tell us you love them more than anything else, more than everyone else, because we, the childless, are everyone else.

A side note: your kid is not a genius because he can count to five and open a door all by himself. In fact, you’ll be surprised to know that the great majority of kids at that age can count to five and open doors. Your kid is not special. Dogs are smart, too, you know, and some of them can open doors as well. Dogs should be considered geniuses because they don’t have a brain as complex as that of human beings and they can do all that stuff.

You’re having sex, hey, sex is great. It releases endorphins, and those are fucking good, they make your body tingle and glitter in so many ways. It’s great, I can’t even stress enough how great sex is. When you’re the one doing it, that is, not when you have to listen to people moaning and making the bed groan as if you’ve finally decided to pack up your things and leave the house. Seriously, I can hear everything even though there’s a thick concrete wall between us. I get it, you woke up at four am and your little buddy in the basement felt like it, and your woman was in the mood, too, but do you have to wake me up as well? I can hear you’re really into it, the both of you, the pleasure, it’s almost palpable. But a sound so hegemonic triggers rebelliousness in me.

You’re everywhere I look, and every gesture of yours is a negation of the gestures I would like to be free to perform leisurely, the way you do them. In our beds, the ones that epitomize the only sense of privacy we’ve come to conquer and make our own, we speak your language. You’ve colonized our mouths and the way we look at each other, and in our search to be different from you we’ve lost all sense of purpose. You’ve made us ashamed of who we are because we cannot attain a sense a completion that has always been yours.

So please, whatever you do, whether on the bus, or in the library, think. Think that someone out there is not like you and can never be like you.

2010 in review

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads This blog is doing awesome!.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,700 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.


In 2010, there were 24 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 31 posts. There were 65 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 13mb. That’s about 1 pictures per week.

The busiest day of the year was May 1st with 62 views. The most popular post that day was Here and There.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, twitter.com, result-of-sadness.blogspot.com, stumbleupon.com, and magnificentourage.art.officelive.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for falling apart, belong, robert moscaliuc, love falling apart, and burne jones.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


Here and There May 2010


This love is falling apart June 2010
4 comments and 1 Like on WordPress.com,


Myself July 2009
1 comment


Teatru (englez)/ în limba engleză July 2009


Words November 2009

The Invisible Man

men and women like fingerprints, the soft whisper and the moisture of love chat. you can measure them by the use of light and space inserted in between. I myself am one night and one day tall. the space between me an my birth can be measured precisely by the use of kilometers. to cry over the schizophrenic condition of our existence is like acknowledging the immediacy of hands and the lack of grasping claws that could exorcise pictures. I myself hold two selves. but both are invisible. I am the fingerprint. the presence of absence, the digital presence of experiences untold, and of hands not yet held. the noblest feeling of suffering slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. in their flight the slings and arrows prepare for the pain. the one second of flight is repayed by immeasurable pain.

take arms against me though I’m not the sea of troubles you are looking for.

the sleep is the heart-ache. my flesh is heir to you. I know I shouldn’t be looking at you. your body is the bare bodkin I’m afraid to use. after that there won’t be a point to return. what would be the point of returning.

be all my sins forgot. my flesh transparent, my bones of air, my love of nothing else but you. when I leave you alone, make me the invisible man. I know, you need your life. I promise, I shall forget about mine.