I'm not going to be apologetic as I write this, but I won't be sharing the whole of the second draft of 'Half Nelson' (this to the ones who 'read') but I'll be pointing out nuances all the same, because I guess I've got reason to believe that I can't be understood unless I take the initiative to shove ahead personal interpretations of myself, and I'm burdened with doing that because people, as you all know, won't even intend to do it in the first place. And as I'm not someone who can be discounted based on surface appearances, I'm just taking the initiative to enlighten you with whatever I can tell about what I think I am.
ABOVE: Simple painting of someone that's alone. Took it because I didn't want large-scale royalty issues.
I'm not exaggerating. I don't expect you to get the issue already, in fact I don't think I can get away even with expecting you to get it after you're done with the whole of the draft, and I don't attribute that to my abstractness, or to your incapability to make sense out of sensibility, but rather to the drift in communication that's bound to exist from man to man. Just that it's going to be magnified in the case of you and me.
A man's known no more by what he is, now it's more like he's known for what 'he's managed' or who 'he's with' and this isn't a triumph of any sort; it's not like some worldwide acceptance of the fact that there's a woman behind every big man, and I don't want to be confronted by debate on this aspect because I believe I'm the only one who sees a girl like I should, and the rest are just looking at written rules and some are breaking rules that they think are wrong. And I don't get to feel sorry that I lost my rule-book somewhere three years ago, and I'm still not searching it.
I seriously didn't know who I was addressing as I wrote the above lines, and the funny thing is I can justify both ends, so in the end I had to explain to myself saying that I was actually talking to both him and her (although the lines look addressed more to 'her' than 'him'). I don't want you to misinterpret my statements and take me to be someone who's laughing mockingly at the disillusioned world or something, no, I'm someone who wishes I could happily be a part of the mess and not know about it, but since I'm out of it, all I do is wish someone from the other side would make it out too so that I'd have actual company. Company I don't have to 'look for'. And 'the line' is not 'personal space' but a rather irritating mutation of that concept, where both he and she never let go of each other, because they secretly fear the other could be taken away by a vulture that's stronger than the pheasants they are, and that's sick, you know. Because I've always liked someone that's free and I've liked her freedom and I guess she'd like me back enough for me to sit back and be confident that Kes would surely get back home without me tying her to a string.
And to be otherwise is just... unfair. To her, and of course, to me.
"No one works to hide the sight,
a line of gold in the diamond light,
teams with truth, that's lying in the middle;
a heck of a little, burning bright:
It's a stock of Kryptonite..."
a line of gold in the diamond light,
teams with truth, that's lying in the middle;
a heck of a little, burning bright:
It's a stock of Kryptonite..."
ABOVE: Simple painting of someone that's alone. Took it because I didn't want large-scale royalty issues.
I'm not exaggerating. I don't expect you to get the issue already, in fact I don't think I can get away even with expecting you to get it after you're done with the whole of the draft, and I don't attribute that to my abstractness, or to your incapability to make sense out of sensibility, but rather to the drift in communication that's bound to exist from man to man. Just that it's going to be magnified in the case of you and me.
"City's scrawling in my mind
that two's now the official one,
I guess I'm missing out on half the fun;
Overwritten till complete,
there's not a crease in this street,
and I'm holding the baton,
I just can't skip my run..."
that two's now the official one,
I guess I'm missing out on half the fun;
Overwritten till complete,
there's not a crease in this street,
and I'm holding the baton,
I just can't skip my run..."
A man's known no more by what he is, now it's more like he's known for what 'he's managed' or who 'he's with' and this isn't a triumph of any sort; it's not like some worldwide acceptance of the fact that there's a woman behind every big man, and I don't want to be confronted by debate on this aspect because I believe I'm the only one who sees a girl like I should, and the rest are just looking at written rules and some are breaking rules that they think are wrong. And I don't get to feel sorry that I lost my rule-book somewhere three years ago, and I'm still not searching it.
"And you won't get me off my mind,
(now would you?)
Yeah, I can see the line too..."
(now would you?)
Yeah, I can see the line too..."
I seriously didn't know who I was addressing as I wrote the above lines, and the funny thing is I can justify both ends, so in the end I had to explain to myself saying that I was actually talking to both him and her (although the lines look addressed more to 'her' than 'him'). I don't want you to misinterpret my statements and take me to be someone who's laughing mockingly at the disillusioned world or something, no, I'm someone who wishes I could happily be a part of the mess and not know about it, but since I'm out of it, all I do is wish someone from the other side would make it out too so that I'd have actual company. Company I don't have to 'look for'. And 'the line' is not 'personal space' but a rather irritating mutation of that concept, where both he and she never let go of each other, because they secretly fear the other could be taken away by a vulture that's stronger than the pheasants they are, and that's sick, you know. Because I've always liked someone that's free and I've liked her freedom and I guess she'd like me back enough for me to sit back and be confident that Kes would surely get back home without me tying her to a string.
And to be otherwise is just... unfair. To her, and of course, to me.
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