joan crawfod in johnny guitar (1954)
“We all have our little solipsistic delusions, ghastly intuitions of utter similarity: that we are the only one in the house who ever fills the ice-cube tray, who unloads the clean dishwasher, who occasionally pees in the shower, whose eyelid twitches on first dates; that only we take casualness terribly seriously; that only we hear the whiny pathos in a dog’s yawn, the timeless sigh in the opening of the hermetically-sealed jar, the splattered laugh in the frying egg, the minor-D lament in the vacuum’s scream; that only we feel the panic at sunset the rookie kindergartner feels at his mother’s retreat. That only we love the only-we. Solipsism binds us together, J.D. knows. That we feel lonely in a crowd; stop not to dwell on what’s brought the crowd into being. That we are, always, faces in a crowd.”
— Westward the Course of Empire Takes its Way, David Foster Wallace (via ourcatastrophe)
it’s in the eyes….
The Duchenne Smile: Emotional Expression and Brian Physiology II
http://brainimaging.waisman.wisc.edu/publications/1990/the%20duchenne%20smile.pdf
“A candy-coloured clown they call the Sandman tiptoes to my room every night…”
Roy wrote and recorded this song in 1963, three years before his wife, Claudette was killed in a collision with a semi-trailer truck, and five years before his two eldest sons died in a fire in his Tennessee home. Stoic and tender behind dark sunglasses, Roy always gives me the impression of someone who had already seen and suffered his own ends and had chosen to glide through them again for the love of the beauty of the defeat.
