Larue (Golnaz) > Recent Status Updates

BELIZE: Here in America race doesn't count.
LOUIS: No, no, that's not. I mean you can't be hearing that…
BELIZE: I…
LOUIS: It's-look, race, yes, but ultimately race here is a politi- cal question, right? Racists just try to use race here as a tool in a political struggle. It's not really about race.

And here stands the silent
Muted and orphaned height
Like a tower white and empty
In foggy and quiet night.
Morning abysmally tender
Semi-awake, semi-dream,
Foggy ringing of thoughts,
Oblivion like a scream.

White light falls in cold measure
In damp forest on summer day
In my heart I am slowly carrying
Sadness, like bird colored gray.
What to do with a bird that is wounded?
She went silent, then died as well.
From a fogged-over belltower
Someone has stolen the bell.

Be foam, O Venus, stay as mists, And words to music do return And heart, at heart's own shame do burn, Fused with the core of what exists!

Silentium
She has not taken her first sigh She is the word and music both And thus of all that lives and grows A timeless and unbroken tie.
Placidly breathe the breasts of sea The day is bright, as if gone mad, The sea foam's pallid lilacs stand In vase of lapis lazuli.
O, would my lips accept the lure Of muteness prime, now so remote, Reminding of a crystal notes That are innately truly pure.

All of his life Robert Grainier was able to recall this very moment on this very night.🌃

"Just say some of the words, Glad." It was dark and he wanted to keep hearing her voice.
"Well, fetch, and come, and sit, and lay, and roll over. Whatever it knows to do, it knows the words."

"A man-child couldn't do that way," she said, "just go off and live after it was weaned. A dog knows more than a babe until the babe knows its words. But not just a few words. A dog raised around the house knows some words, too—as many as a baby."
"How many words, Gladys?"
"You know," she said,
"the words for its tricks and
the things you tell it to do."

"How much does she know, do you suppose, Gladys?
As much as a dog-pup, do you suppose?"
"A dog-pup can live by its own after the bitch weans it away," Gladys said.

Though astonished now at the frenzy of the afternoon, baffled by the violence, at how it had carried him away like a seed in a wind, young Grainier still wished they'd gone ahead and killed that Chinaman before he'd cursed them.

A couple of the work gang cheered his escape, while others, though not quite certain why he was being chased, shouted that the villain ought to be stopped.

As this group passed him, Grainier, seeing them in some distress, lent assistance and found himself holding one of the culprit's bare feet.

EVELYN: Okay. Ahh...sure.
(Beat) Do they allow you to do that here?
ADAM: What, eat dinner?
EVELYN: I meant hit on the patrons....
ADAM: ...ummm, no, they've got a pretty strict policy about that, too, actually. But...
EVELYN: ...ahh, the great equalizer. "But."
ADAM: Exactly. I'll take the risk....
EVELYN: ...good answer, grasshopper.

EVELYN: Right. So,basically, you’re...fucked.
ADAM: Yep. But at least I'm educated, so I comprehend that I'm fucked...

EVELYN: No, and I don't know why... we're always calling him "the creator." (Beat) Look at it, you can see the...see right behind the grapes there, you can just see his...
ADAM: ...grapes. Yes.
You're absolutely, huh.
Didn't even cover him properly. Shoddy craftmanship!
EVELYN: 1 mean, if you're gonna do it, at least....
ADAM: ...exactly. Do it right.

EVELYN: Seven or eight years ago now, I think.
Before I got here,
anyway./See, they objected to his "thing." The shape of it. Said it was too life-like.
(Beat) It's supposed to be
"god," you know...that's what pisses 'em off.
ADAM: Huh./Yeah...he's not really supposed to have one of those, is he?

EVELYN: Yes, but the leaf cluster isn't.
ADAM: It's not?/What is it, a pastie or something, like strippers have?
EVELYN: No./It's plaster...it was added by a committee who had complaints from local townspeople./Uh-huh./ They made a petition and got that put on, thereby removing its subjectivity as art.

ADAM: Right, but see, l don't know what you're referring to then. I mean, specifically... (Beat) Didn't Oscar Wilde say something like, "In art there is no such thing as a universal truth..." Or whatever?
EVELYN: Yes...very good.
"A truth in art is that whose contradictory is also true."
Right, but that's an aesthetic. I'm talking about practicalities. Censorship.

EVELYN: Because I don't like art that isn't true.
ADAM: "True." What do you mean?
EVELYN: False art. I hate that....
(Other patrons drift past.
They watch them go.)
ADAM: No, I understand the words you've used here, although they're both pretty subjective: "art."
"Truth."
EVELYN: Exactly! That's the beauty of art...it's subjective.

ADAM: ...do it right?
Absolutely. And, would
"why" be completely out of the question here?
EVELYN: Why the "dick"?

ADAM: Paint's not really the best thing to have in a museum. People'll definitely take that the wrong way....
EVELYN: How do they know which way to take it?

EVELYN: I know./ That's why I tried it....
ADAM: Why?
EVELYN: ...to see what would happen.

" A beautiful animal!" I commenced again.
" Do you intend parting with the little ones, madam ?"
"They are not mine,"
said the amiable
hostess more repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied.
"Ah, your favourites are among these!" I continued, turning to an obscure cushion full of something like cats. " A strange choice of favourites," she observed scornfully.

or hated again-No, I'm running on too fast— I bestow my own attributes over liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way, when he meets a would be acquaint-ance, to those which actuate me.

some people might suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride-I have a sympathe-tie chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort; I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling — to manifestations of mutual kindliness.
He'll love and hate, equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence, to be loved