coromandal


instead of forever knowing
April 19, 2011, 12:06 am
Filed under: departure lounge, the sweet life | Tags: , , , ,

A midlife crisis is when all the structures you have carefully worked to establish for your life have run their course and now sputter and stall and collapse in a pile underneath you.  And you go out and buy a new sports car or, if you’re the type, begin the novel that’s nagged at you all these years.  It’s busting from one zone that has a growing number of inadequacies and into a new one that should keep you sane and secure for the next phase of life.

Damiel, Berlin’s angel, is fed up.  His main gig – caring for the city’s troubled – isn’t working for him anymore and he wants out.  For Damiel, angeling is too much about the eternal:  he testifies, hovers weightless, waits, is all knowing, blesses.  He craves an earthly live:  to be bound, weighted, where experience is immediate, the acknowledgement of people is acute, the days events are participatory, to be susceptible to sickness and suspicion and epiphany.

Angels are like codependents and social workers; their task is alway to give, to people who quite literally will never stop craving more, of the junk, the balm.  It’s the burden of angels, always to take care of others, never themselves.

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i wish you were here
March 25, 2008, 11:04 pm
Filed under: brave new world | Tags: , , , , , ,

This is about yearning; being in a state of suspension and ambivalence and seeing another state of connection and consequence, and wanting it.  Wanting it enough to take great risk to get it.  And the beauty of the state you want is described by someone in it who understands it and acts as an apologist for it’s joy. He is a friend, and maybe this is what a friend is, someone who explains and recommends risk, life, and the ultimate dividend joy.

“Here, to smoke, have coffee. And if you do it together it’s fantastic. Or to draw: you know, you take a pencil and you make a dark line, then you make a light line and together it’s a good line. Or when your hands are cold, you rub them together, you see, that’s good, that feels good! There’s so many good things! But you’re not here – I’m here. I wish you were here. I wish you could talk to me. ‘Cause I’m a friend.”

~ Peter Falk, Wings of Desire