And at night too...

When the whole day is not enough for me to talk to you, I'm continuing doing this at night... To drink tea at this time it's, at least, unhealthy, and to think about anything one can straight up to an hour when the sky begins to wash with milk... All the more that the "conversation is the best cure of hypochondria caused by bitter infatuation", - as old provincial doctor once have said treating with verbal pills in loved Count Cagliostro...

What can be better than lye on the back with closed eyes, listen to the night dogs' barking outside the window and scroll though in mind the shots with back decorated with sweet mole beneath the right shoulder... your back or Brandon's back... because He is just a man played by You, so, therefore, I have a right to temporarily to take it over yours...

"...what a superb back... We had slept together many times and we had fallen asleep in all sorts of postures, but I had noticed nothing. Now, in this huge bed which seemed to float in the wan light of the big room, this back became engraved in my memory. I had no definite thoughts about it - just vague pleasure sensations of the strength and the vitality that was in it..."

It looks like for hungry loving eyes the contemplation of the back can be a real feast... the wrong scraps of lines that were idling around somewhere in the mind suddenly came up pleased with similarity of the discovery made once by lovely fellow Henry Miller: "simple back of your loved one can be realized as perfection if you need it for some reason..."

The woman is sleeping somewhere next to Brandon... woman he just made love with... or had sex... There's a difference... and the huge one... If you know what I mean... I want to see his face right now... as soon as possible... "Until it has cooled down"... which one will it be... will it be keeping the traces of inimitable fatigue when it seems there's nothing in the bottom of belly except light clouds, and you even don't want to think but only to stay in this short moment of flight a little bit more?.. The happiness of realizing that you've just been not by yourself but a part of something from which one the world once has began: the possession of your own rib that you have finally found and was able to put it into a proper place?.. Or the recognition of yourself as a rib that has found at last the perfect skeleton that was once lost...

Brandon turns to me... And I hear the interrupted disappointed breathing... I see the face... This is empty and hard... hard again and even more empty... she was not that part of skeleton that was once stolen to create the piece of your soul... A random bone left in the back yard of a pub or guesthouse near garbage tank by good-washer-guy for dogs that are hungry for love... The man I see now in front of me has almost the same posture that was in the first shorts of the story, but instead of stubbornly settled balance I see a deafening emptiness, which cannot be filled with all the sands of time... He knows about it?.. Forgets at least for a while?.. Or he's skiping the endless sand grinds between his fingers knowing very well that they, useless, are and will be without number... and if the poor guy convinced that the absence of the bottom can be mended by mechanical coitus, then the bones scattered around anywhere by anyone he's doomed to pick for the rest of his life to the last hour... the hour of man... the hour of person...

This is the problem of personality in the absence of his own soul and love... Maybe with this one it would be nice to come to Sigmund Freud... but he, more likely, would discuss the topic but didn't help... "starer" of psychoanalysis was a bad practitioner and never asked himself the right questions (in order to not find the absence of his own bottom)... Carl Jung – a man one of us through and though, so that's why he proposed quite a radical solution... you can even say "operational decision": to "fulfill the unfulfilled as soon as possible"... but neither of both luminaries did not confirmed the diagnosis of "sexual addiction"... why, my love?.. Just because there's a big difference between rat endlessly pressing the button of pleasure and then dying of hunger as a result of "being mechanically busy" and rat dying from a love melancholy next to button of pleasure that was never pressed...

Why I seized this diagnosis that I don't like up in a death grip?.. Simply because the whole unhappy destiny of Brandon Sullivan and his shame has originally started from the wrong set of "main theme"... It haunted him on his heels in the media announcements, official and unofficial websites and blogs from all over the world... On posters, flyers and following reviews were screaming two words louder than any other ones like they were stamping on Brandon's forehead a bright coloured tattoo "sexual addict"... And the harmony of future perception collapsed...

People need the reference points of waiting for their own Godot... They will be standing, sitting, lying dangling their legs in the air in the absolute certainty that he is just about to come simply because they were promised he would do it by all means... You see, even if someone put all his (but mostly others') forces to create a future masterpiece which will be collecting all the big and small cinematic prizes and reaping the glory like a successful mushroomer that ran out the house with huge basket just in time, he can left with nothing if he would be able to go far enough in his honesty to say: "I wanted to tell you about it, my dear friends... Maybe it's uncustomary... Maybe it's unpleasant... But I still wanted to try… And even if you won't like it, you cannot say that it has no right to exist..." No one can look into the people's eyes and in answer to question: "You have showed us this and that... We've seen this... Did we get it right?.." mumble: "I don't know... I made a film... Decide for yourself what's it turned out..." and tacitly to give the right to those who brought into life His intentions to take the rap for everything that He was dreaming of in high clouds... for people?.. for himself?.. for whom?..

The viewer is a bit dog in some way... He needs the direction of "stick's flight"... He's openhearted and trusting, and the one who took this stick to throw hoping that someone will run after it has the right even not to lie, but and for a fragment of reticence about the goals that he pursued while he was intending the final goal of this rally...

I'm a dog like everyone who's watching, reading, looking for idea of the Creator, who wants to be united with one whose deed she considered worthy of her eyes, mind and feelings...

You fixed everything that can be fixed... It's not the bittersweet pill from a tar... This is what was beating in my heart and hearts of those who was watching next to me and far from me... becoming Brandon a while you breathed a soul into something that wasn't meant to be alive... made his tears my tears… his bitterness my bitterness... his unhappy life mine... and the sweetness of the blows in the face as a welcomed stop of outrage created by him for himself I also tested all the way...

Yeah... I know that the last fragments of this speech of mine are somewhat premature, but I'm running ahead of myself because I can forget that was opened right now while I'm saying all of this into your space... The guesses will become colourless and die somewhere in the subconscious as it was not once when I was waiting for our next talk... So, sorry, this my haste could happen again... I can't do otherwise... Then I should be better not to start talking to you...

to be continued...