Tuesday, June 01, 2010


1. What is the question to which love is the answer?
2. Is love a feeling or an interaction?
3. Can love be felt without a love-object?
4. If it's an interaction, what's the minimum number of participants?
5. Does love of one's self feel the same as love of an other?
6. For love to persist, is a loving response required?
7. Why are love and happiness usually considered to be a pair?
8. Why are love and unhappiness so frequently seen together?
9. Can there be love without joy? Or joy without love?
10. What is this thing called love? 

Any answers? 




tpe said...

Hello Ms d’Arbeloff, how are you doing? I’m just catching up with all of your stuff (I had to go back to January – and I’ll have to go back a bit further, in fact, but January seemed a good place to start) and I’ve stopped in here to take a breather. I must find precisely where I left off (La Vie En Rose – I need to read it in one sitting, remember?) but I’m happy to have made such progress these past two days. I think I’ll be in your July by tomorrow evening. Phew.

I’ll just quickly “answer” these questions here....

1. Why should I believe you?
2. Both.
3. Yes.
4. One or none.
5. This rather assumes that your readers will be familiar with the concept of love of one’s self, but I should hazard a guess at “no”.
6. No.
7. I can only put this down to the limitations of other people’s imaginations and/or feelings.
8. Because if you love properly, perhaps, you know it’s going to end - and a world capable of absorbing (without blinking) the terminal loss of something you love is the kind of world that should make all right-thinking people sad, bewildered and borderline desolate. (Although this knowledge, of course, should heighten any and all emotions ever felt – which is a plus.)
9. Yes and yes.
10. I really, really don’t know.

Hmm. I can already see some faults with what I've said, but there we are.

That was a beautiful story about Andrei Korliakov and your “lost” painting, incidentally. Without wishing to crash your glee and steal a slice of it for myself, of course, but these things make me very happy indeed. It’s very nearly perfect, isn’t it? Magical.

The stupidity of the confiscation of your acrylics left me weak. Why oh why oh why do these people lack the ability to react with reasonableness? It just drives me mental. At least the rest of your journey was plain sailing. (No, my mistake.)

What else? Yes, Inside-Outside (acrylic on paper), love it. No, please, I love it.

I also loved waching the film in Tavira, although you had your work cut out getting the metal cutter to open up - not helped, perhaps, by the Scottish tourist trying to tell a joke in Spanish (wtf?) - and the conversation with the guy painted in white bordered on the surreal. Very pleasing. It all felt so familiar and, bizarrely, made me feel “homesick”. I know, weird, but I used to spend the winters there (in Portugal, I mean, not specifically Tavira.)

Was the music at the end cut on purpose or was this a computer glitch (on my part)? Watching people dance without music really hurts, I find. It made the ending feel rather sad (which is no bad thing, I hasten to add).

I've spent too much time playing with “Harmony” – too addictive. Oh, and your intestinal-looking ash cloud was strangely beautiful, by the way.

Right. Must shut my face and be gone. Back disastrously soon, though, I reckon.

Kind regards etc.....


Natalie said...

Oh, it's the periodic Englishman! I'm so glad you've come back and are so generous in your commentary. I had assumed you were one of those ships that one waves to from the deck of another ship passing in the night where one happens to be standing staring at the sea because one can't sleep, but now it seems you're standing on the shore, waving.
I truly appreciate your attention to my bloggings and your presence in this corner of the inter-ocean.

The silent flamenco dance bit at the end of the Tavira video was silent only because, alas, I didn't have my camcorder at that moment and my ordinary camera's tiny movie option has no sound. But those Spanish tourists' movements were so graceful that I had to include them even though their voices and clapping made the scene so much more extraordinary.

I am about to blog, this very day, about my Paris trip, including a visit to Monsieur Korliakov so I hope you've reached July. A bientôt, mon ami, and hasta luego.