Since sleep hasn’t come yet and it’s almost 3:30 am (I have to be up by 9:00!!), I decided to pay a tribute to some of my favourite men: all aviators, all a bit cuckoo in the head with an affinity for suffering, open air, impressing people and breaking the hearts of those they love.
I don’t know why but I have a soft spot for eccentric men who are both imaginative and destructive, sensitive and cruel, detached from reality and frightfully intelligent, enigmatic and obsessive, charming and eternally depressed, proud and secretly self-hating, ridiculously successful and hopelessly lonely (at least in their heads), creative and nocturnal, sentimental and vindictive, spiritual and selfish. Those men that are touched by madness and melancholia, which show in their eyes (I think psychologists have given this type of men a name now. Manic-depressive or people with borderline personality disorder). And yes, I’m sober and well aware of what I’m writing here. And time proves again and again that I somehow get attracted to (or intrigued by), in fiction, history or real life, these types of men. Foolish of me. They’re the best and worst, in so many ways. And I’m like a butterfly, I seek the light even if it kills me (or perhaps precisely because it carries the promise of death, the big adventure, that I willingly fly towards it). Perhaps one day I’ll grow up, and learn to like nice decent men who say lovey-dovey stuff and read books to blind children in their spare time (aww, I’m touched by this image now, perhaps I’m growing up already!) While I’m at it, I decided to attach pictures of my favourite male look: Can you guess? Well you don’t have to. The pictures are right here … Listening to: the sound of silence, Mood: Sentimental, Romantic, Dreamy