The Time Traveler's Wife - Claire

[Secret]

This is a secret: sometimes I am glad when Henry is gone. Sometimes I enjoy being alone. Sometimes I walk through the house late at night and I shiver with the pleasure of not talking, not touching, just walking, or sitting, or taking a bath. Sometimes I lie on the living room floor and listen to Fleetwood Mac, the Bangles, the B-52’s, the Eagles, bands that Henry can’t stand. Sometimes I go for long walks with Alba and I don’t leave a note saying where I am. Sometimes I meet Celia for coffee, and we talk about Henry, and Ingrid, and whoever Celia’s seeing that week. Sometimes I hang out with Charisse and Gomez, and we don’t talk about Henry, and we manage to enjoy ourselves. Once I went to Michigan and when I came back Henry was still gone and I never told him I had been anywhere. Sometimes I get a babysitter and I go to the movies or I ride my bicycle after dark along the bike path by Monroe beach with no lights; it’s like flying.

The Time Traveler's Wife - Henry

When you live with a woman you learn something every day. So far I have learned that long hair will clog up the shower drain before you can say “Liquid-Plumr”; that it is not advisable to clip something out of the newspaper before your wife has read it, even if the newspaper in question is a week old; that I am the only person in our two-person household who can eat the same thing for dinner three nights in a row without pouting; and that headphones were invented to preserve spouses from each other’s musical excesses. […] The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreamy silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare’s mind and is sitting there knitting or something. I’ve discovered that Clare likes to be alone.

(Porque meus namorados nunca descobriram isso tambem?)

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo - Salander

When Salander went to bed on her seventh night in Hedeby, she was mildly irritated with Blomkvist. For almost a week she had spent practically every waking minute with him. Normally seven minutes of another person’s company was enough to give her a headache, so she set things up to live as a recluse. She was perfectly content as long as people left her in peace. Unfortunately society was not very smart or understanding; […]. There was a whole army of people who seemed not to have anything better to do than to try to disrupt her life, and, if they were given the opportunity, to correct the way she had chosen to live it.

It did no good to cry, she had learned that early on. She had also learned that every time she tried to make someone aware of something in her life, the situation just got worse. Consequently, it was up to her to solve her problems by herself, using whatever methods she deemed necessary. (*like murdering) […]

*minha nota.

 

(Sempre quis parecer com a mocinha do livro mas isso raramente acontece. Apos anos de busca e mais de 500 livros lidos (ah, eu devo estar por ai…) enfim achei minha sosia, Lizbeth Salander. Excluindo o fato de que eu TALVEZ jamais mataria alguem so pra tirar essa pessoa do meu caminho, a gente se parece um monte).

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo - Blomkvist & Berger

The streets lights reflecting off the corners of the windows were all that lit the room. When Berger fell asleep sometime after 2:00 in the morning, blomkvist lay awake studying her profile in the dimness. The covers were down around her waist, and he watched her breasts slowly rising and falling. He was relaxed, and the anxious knot in his stomach had eased. She had that effect on him. She always had had. And he knew he had the same effect on her.

Twenty years, he thought. That’s how long it had been. As far as he was concerned, they could go on sleeping together for another two decades. At least. They had never seriously tried to hide their relationship, even when it led to awkwardness in their dealings with other people.

They had met in a party when they were both in their second year at journalism school. Before they said goodnight they had exchanged telephone numbers. They both new they would end up in bed together, and in less than a week they realized this conviction without telling their respective partners.

Blomkvist was sure that it was not the old-fashioned kind of love that leads to a shared home, a shared mortgage, Christmas trees, and children. During the eighties, when they were not bound by other relationships, they had talked of moving in together. He had wanted to, but Erika always backed out at the last minute. It wouldn’t work, she said, they would risk what they had if they fell in love too. Blomkvist had often wondered whether it were possible to be more possessed by desire for any other woman. The fact was that they functioned well together, and they had a connection as addictive as heroin.

Sometimes they were together so often that it felt as though they really were a couple; sometimes weeks and months would go by before they saw each other. But even as alcoholics are drawn to the state liquor store after a stint on the wagon, they always came back to each other.

Inevitably it did not work in the long run. That kind of relationship was almost bound to cause pain. They had both left broken promises and unhappy lovers behind – his own marriage had collapsed because he could not stay away from Erika Berger. He had never lied about his feelings for her to his wife, Monica, but she had thought it would end when they married and their daughter was born. And Berger had almost simultaneously married Greger Beckman. Blomkvist too had thought it would end, and for the first years of his marriage he and Berger had only seen each other professionally. They had started Millennium and within a few weeks all their good intentions had dissolved, and one late evening they had furious sex on her desk. That led to a troublesome period in which Blomkvist wanted very much to live with his family and see his daughter grow up, but at the same time he was helplessly drawn to Berger.

[continua]

On My Own

De um dos atos de Les Miserables, musical baseado no livro de Victor Hugo. Aqui. (Passa direto pros 44 segundos). Eu fico com uma sensacao de vazio toda vez que eu assisto a esse video. [the city goes to bed, and I can live inside my head]. Alguem ja leu o livro? Nao consigo me decidir se compro a versao traduzida em 2008 ou se compro a de 1915. I guess I am On My Own to decide it.

Spoiler.

Watch out! SPOILER!

Nada de interessante, so uma parte de Breaking Dawn que eu ri demais e to colocando aqui pra ler e rir mais um pouquinho.

"...I leaned into my hunting crouch and took two steps forward toward Jacob.
'You didn't', I snarled at him.
He backed away, palms up, trying to reason with me. 'You know it's not something I can control.'
'You stupid mutt! How could you? My baby!'

...'I've held her all of one time, and already you think you have some moronic wolfy claim to her? She's mine.'

... I was too furious.
"How dare you imprint on my baby? Have you lost your mind?

...And then I lunged for his throat.

Uma das minhas partes favoritas no livro inteiro. Hohoho.

Retirado de "Breaking Dawn" - Stephenie Meyer. Pg's 449 e 451.

Twilight - New Moon - Eclipse - Breaking Dawn

Desnecessario dizer que eu ja terminei a serie inteira ne?

E que vou ficar citando meus trechos preferidos por decadas aqui?





Bom, eu avisei.

Twilight II

Terminei o livro ha uma hora atras.

Foi dificil nao me emocionar e mergulhar fundo na historia.

Sei que vai soar infantil, romantico e ingenuo, mas pra mim, a historia da Bella e do Edward é uma das mais bonitas declaracoes de amor que ja vi. É um amor que ultrapassa qualquer tipo de preconceito. Um amor puro. Um amor proibido, nao porque uma das partes ja esta comprometida (o caso da maioria dos filmes onde a infidelidade se tornou uma coisa banal), mas um amor proibido no sentido de impossibilidade mesmo. Melhor dizendo, um amor impossivel.

Lindo, simples, e irresistivel.

É, acho que antes do dia 7/7 vou ter mais 4 livroes pra apertar na minha ja abarrotada mala de volta pro Brasil.

Twilight. Aniversario. Livros.

"Se me disserem que historias de vampiro tem conotacao com a forca das trevas eu prometo que rio da tua cara tambem."

Comprei Twilight (o livro) ontem a tarde. Eu ainda tava em duvida quando cheguei na Target e fui (como sempre) direto pra sessao dos livros. Assim como Harry Potter, eu tinha ouvido varias pessoas comentarem sobre o hit, que era viciante, impossivel de largar e talz. Nao dei muita bola - depois de Harry, Hogawarts e toda bruxaria representada, achava impossivel me interessar por ficcao outra vez. Especialmente por vampiros, que, assim como dinossauros e E.T.s, fazem parte da minha lista de coisas absurdas e inexistentes.

Fui sem fe, mas mesmo assim paguei 10 dollares a mais pela Hardcover ao inves de simplesmente (como faco com livros em geral) comprar Paperback e economizar arvores e dinheiro. Acho que foi a capa preta, com letras encrustadas (han, essa palavra existe? alguem pode checar pra mim?) que me induziram a compra. (Fato: quem me conhece sabe como sou louca por livros. Nao apenas o "ler livros". Sou louca pelo objeto livro, as paginas, a capa, as letras, o cheiro. Meus livros sao sagrados, empresto de cara feia e todos eles levam meu nome completo e a data de aquisicao. As vezes sonho que aos 60 serei uma dessas livreiras, que pagam enormes somas de dinheiro por raridades, assinando cheques em cima de uma escrivaninha de madeira de lei, com estantes abarrotadas de livros (catalogados) ate o teto. Bibliofilos; eles chamam a gente de bibliofilos. Nao a toa, um dos meus livros preferidos "O Clube Dumas" (Arturo Perez -Reverte - 1998) trata justamente desse assunto. O fato de Twilight ter a opcao de capa dura (preta) e aquela cara de livro importante fizeram 10 dollares parecerem nada.)

Ainda no carro voltando pra casa fico na duvida se vou gostar ou nao. Se nao gostar sei o quao frustrada vou ficar - comecar um livro e nao terminar consta na minha lista de pecados capitais. Mesmo que a historia seja enredo de pagode, vou ate o fim.

Agora, podem me condenar a vontade, dizendo que sou so mais uma adolescente leitora de livros mediocres e com Q.I. abaixo de 50. Podem apontar o fato de que livros que viram sucesso absoluto de bilheteria nao podem ser tao complicados e valiosos quanto os livros que uma "bibliofila" (tenho um riso cinico na minha cara agora, eu que tenho a gigantesca nocao de ser so uma maluca compulsiva por livros em geral) deveria estar lendo. Nao to nem ai. Se me disserem que historias de vampiro tem conotacao com a forca das trevas eu prometo que rio da tua cara tambem.

To apaixonada pelo livro e to no 4º capitulo. (perigo a vista - Juliana desligando celular, ignorando o orkut e ficando em casa no feriado).

E o fato de que agora (se ja nao virou) vai virar modinha ser branco palido e gostar de sangue tambem nao me incomoda. Talvez apenas seja triste o fato de que, em 100 anos, o original do livro nao vai valer tanto assim no mercado livreiro, visto que ate o cachorro da vizinha tem um exemplar (e esta lendo) - livros produzidos massivamente nao fazem a cabeca dos cacadores. Em 300 anos, talvez?

Nao to nem ai pro fato de existirem, nesta data, umas 500 comunidades sobre Twilight no orkut (me perdoem minha frivolidade, mas o orkut é sistema de medida sim, ao menos da opiniao popular). Eu gosto de exclusividade e me chateio quando todo mundo comeca a gostar das mesmas coisas que eu, mas quando um livro é bom um livro é bom, merece ser divulgado e lido, ponto final.

Nao vim dissertar sobre a historia, sobre os pontos altos e baixos, quem é quem ou sobre as inumeras teorias e conspiracos que ja rolam na internet (acho um absurdo, mas confesso que me divirto a beca lendo).

So vim dizer que gostei e ponto. E que, como meu aniversario esta chegando, o resto da serie embrulhada em papel de presente (ou numa sacolinha da Border's) nao faria mal algum. Ou qualquer livro que seja, porque muito provavelmente ate o dia 7/7 eu ja tenha comprado e lido toda a saga. Mas me de livros de presente. Sempre. Nao tem erro. Qualquer outra coisa - tenho sidrome de Rachel Greene (Friends) - eu volto na loja e troco, todo mundo sabe.

Tambem vim aqui desabafar e encher o blog por causa da culpa que me assombra todas as vezes que fico muito tempo sem escrever.

Mas ja dei meu recado entao:

- aniversario chegando.
- livros de presente.
- culpa por nao escrever.

Agradeco a atencao.