Nem tudom megallni, hogy ne irjak errol, mert olyan nagyon szeretem az ilyen osszecsengeseket. Persze tudjuk, hogy van valami titkos osszerendezettseg a vilagban. Hat ez is ilyen. Es a szamomra legkedvesebbek kozul valo, mert irodalom.

Szoval vagy titkos osszerendezettseg, vagy egyszeruen csak ilyenek vagyunk mi, szeretok, nemszeretok, ferfiak es nok. Vagy mindketto.

Ket teljesen kulonbozo konyvet olvastam. Az egyik amerikai, a masikat egy francia irta. Az egyik novellafuzer (fikcio), a masik... szoval maradjunk annyiban, hogy nem-fikcio (memoarnak van besorolva a konyvtari katalogusban, de ez okorseg). Es meg sorolhatnam az eltereseket, van beloluk egy rakassal. Az azonossagokkal mar bajban lennek, annyira sok a ketto kozott a kulonbseg.

Es megis. Figyeljunk csak:

Yes, despite my turtleneck-undershirts a woman had taken an interest in me of late. And to my shock my turtlenecks didn't put her off, even though most women feel an instinctive, to my mind legitimate, revulsion toward men in layered turtlenecks, unless they somehow find them attractive - but I gave those women a wide berth then and still do. At any rate she wasn't one of them; she just seemed not to notice my sartorial neurosis, for which I was profoundly grateful. At the same time it frustrated me. I was unnerved that my turtleneck-undershirts didn't bother her, never even gave her pause, when it would have made me feel so much less burdened and alone, would have meant such a sharp rise in the value of her affections, if only I'd known that she loved me with open eyes. But no, she saw no secret meaning in my layered look, so there I was, misunderstood at her side, furious, divided, unfairly and hatefully demanding that she adjust to my turtlenecks when it was exactly her easy acceptance, and everything about us is so twisted and convulted, and doesn't every windfall hide a trap?

–- Grégoire Bouillier: The Mystery Guest

es...

It's cost me every sexual relationship I ever had.

(...)

What do you say if you just shouted "Victory for the Forces of Democratic Freedom!" right when you came?

(...)

But all there is is the once. That's what I mean about it costing. I can tell how bad it freaks them out, and I get embarassed and never call them again. Even if I try to explain. And it's the ones that act all understanding like they don't care and it's OK and they understand and it doesn't matter that embarass me the worst, because it's so fucking weird to yell "Victory for the Forces of Democratic Freedom!" when you're shooting off that I can always tell they're totally freaked out and just condescending down to me and pretending they understand, and those are the ones where actually I actually end up almost getting pissed off and don't even feel embarassed not calling them or totally avoiding them, the ones that say "I think I could love you anyway."

–- David Foster Wallace: Brief Interviews With Hideous Men