THE DESIRE TO PAINT (Charles Bauldelaire)

Unhappy perhaps is man, but happy the artist torn by desire!

I am consumed by a desire to paint the woman who appeared to me so rarely and who so quickly fled, like a beautiful regretted thing the voyager leaves behind as he is carried away into the night. How long it is now, since she disappeared!

She is beautiful and more than beautiful; she is surprising. Darkness in her abounds, and all that she inspires is nocturnal and profound. Her eyes are two caverns where mystery dimly glistens, and like a lighting flash, her glance illuminates: it is an explosion in the dark.

I have compared her to a black sun, if one can imagine a black star pouring out light and happiness. But she makes one think rather of the moon, which has surely marked her with its portentous influence; not the white moon of idylls which resembles a frigid bride, but the moon torn from the sky, the conquered and indignant moon that the Thessalian Witches cruelly compel to dance on the frightened grass!

That little forehead is inhabited by a tenacious will and a desire for prey. Yet, in the lower part of this disturbing countenance, with sensitive nostrils quivering for the unknown and the impossible, bursts, with inexpressible loveliness, a wide mouth, red and white and alluring, that makes one dream of the miracle of a superb flower blooming on volcanic soil.

There are woman who inspire you with desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them; but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly beneath her gaze.

NYC week 2.3

(I want you to notice when I'm not around.)

When you were here before,
couldn't look you in the eye.
Just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
you float like a feather,
in a beautiful world.
wish I was special.
you're so very special.

and I'm a creep
I'm a wierdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

I don't care if it hurts.
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body.
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice
when I'm not around.
You're so very special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a wierdo
What the hell am I doing here
when I don't belong here
Woah, woah

she's runnin out again
she's running out she--run--run---run runs
Run.
Whatever makes you happy
whatever you want
youre so very special
I wish I was special

but I'm a creep
I'm a wierdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here.

NYC week 2.2

NYC week 2.1

I need some sweet assistance while I'm stealing some of your time

Would you help me pack my bags, I might be leaving
I need some sweet assistance while 'm stealing
Some of your time
I hope that's fine

And I've got photographs of all, you're all I'm needing
Forgiveness if I left you all believing
That I'm the one 'cause I feel like none
And I need something to direct me to it

'Cause I'm a frequent flyer, a notorious liar
But I can't get close enough
I never get close
I can't get close enough

I would love to tell my story from the ending
But the story's getting thin from heavy spending
And I need my man, and I need a fence
And I need someone to protect me from the wrench

I'm a frequent flyer, a notorious liar
But I can't get close enough
I never get close
I can't get close enough to the ending

I can't get close enough
I can't get close enough
To the sun

I'm a frequent flyer, a notorious liar
But I can't get close enough
I never get close
I can't get close enough... it seems