Not all that glitters is gold

Today I heard one of the most unbelievable stories. Read it, it’s worth it, and it goes like this:

My family is friend with another family for as long as I can remember, let’s call them the Jacksons. Their two children are like cousins to me, and well of course, the parents like uncles. Very close ones, even closer than my real uncles.

Today I was finding out about some course that it’ll be given in my town, and my Mom told me that if I end up going and I see the teacher’s daughter there, I shouldn’t -by any means- say that she looks exactly like the Jackson’s daughter. To which, of course, I asked why (who wouldn’t?), and my Mom, told me, almost in my ear, that she and Mrs. Jackson’s sister (who by the way we are also very, very close with) believe that the girl is Mr. Jackson’s unrecognized daughter, that was conceived when this girl’s mother worked in Mr. Jackson’s store. IMAGINE my face, "whaaaaaatttt? you’re kidding Mom, you’re fucking kidding me, that’s not true" that’s all I said for like, five minutes. So as a prove, my dear mother made me look for the girl on facebook, and with Lord as my witness she looks EXACTLY like Mr. and Mrs. Jackson’s daughter. I think my jaw went through seven floors and back, and I’m still trying to believe it. She said that this girl’s mother never said a word about who her real father is. To anyone.

But, hold your breath, this doesn’t end up here. You think this was such a simple story? Turns ooouut (white girl trash talk voice on) Mr. Jackson had green light on the cheating thing because Mrs. Jackson tried to run away with an old boyfriend when the children were young, but the lover never showed up, and she had to go back to Mr. Jackson and their two children.

Who needs soap operas when you live in such a small city.

Mr. and Mrs. Jackson are one of the most consolidates couples I know, their entire family is simply, lovely. And nobody knows with complete certain if this story is true (the unrecognized daughter one, the Mrs. Jackson’s one it’s well known -by every adult, of course-) I always, envied the way they support each other, and how interested in their children Mrs. Jackson is, and turns out she was willing to abandon them once, and they don’t even know about it. And if you go through this fatherless child’s photos you can see Mrs. Jackson comments saying she and her mother look very much alike. Come on, how fucked up is that? I think I’ll write a book about it.


"There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost enamored of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, and that lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one might fancy, especially the art of those who minds have been troubled with the malady of reverie. Gradually white fingers creep through the curtains, and they appear to tremble. In black, fantastic shapes, dumb shadows crawl into the corners of the room, and crouch there. Outside, there is the stirring of the birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it feared to wake the sleeper, and yet must needs call forth Sleep from her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin, dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colors of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems to us changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colors, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness, and the memories of pleasure their pain."

The Portrait of Dorian Gey. 

Best line (of many) so far.


To be immortal is commonplace; except for men, all creatures are immortal, for they are ignorant of death; what is divine, terrible, incomprehensible, is to know that one is mortal.

You know, something odd happens with this quote, in my book it says at the end “…is to know that one is immortal.” but I think it makes no sense, so I’ve looked it up online and it’s also written like this, which seems more logical. I don’t know, I’ll just go with what seems right to me (books also have mistakes).

 11.14.2011   11.6.2011 

"He wondered, as he had many times wondered before, whether he himself was a lunatic. Perhaps a lunatic was simply a minority of one."

One of the best books I’ve read. And as it says: The best books are those that tell you what you know already.


Where did all my old books go?

I even remember I had one about a place where all lost things were. How ironic.

old book where 
 09.25.2011   09.5.2011 
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