12.30.2008

V for Vendetta - Valerie's Letter

I don't know who you are. Please believe. There is no way I can convince you that this is not one of their tricks. But I don't care. I am me, and I don't know who you are, but I love you.

I have a pencil. A little one they did not find. I am a women. I hid it inside me. Perhaps I won't be able to write again, so this is a long letter about my life. It is the only autobiography I have ever written and oh God I'm writing it on toilet paper.

I was born in Nottingham in 1957, and it rained a lot. I passed my eleven plus and went to girl's Grammar. I wanted to be an actress.

I met my first girlfriend at school. Her name was Sara. She was fourteen and I was fifteen but we were both in Miss. Watson's class. Her wrists. Her wrists were beautiful. I sat in biology class, staring at the picket rabbit foetus in its jar, listening while Mr. Hird said it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew. Sara did. I didn't.

In 1976 I stopped pretending and took a girl called Christine home to meet my parents. A week later I enrolled at drama college. My mother said I broke her heart.

But it was my integrity that was important. Is that so selfish? It sells for so little, but it's all we have left in this place. It is the very last inch of us. But within that inch we are free.

London. I was happy in London. In 1981 I played Dandini in Cinderella. My first rep work. The world was strange and rustling and busy, with invisible crowds behind the hot lights and all that breathless glamour. It was exciting and it was lonely. At nights I'd go to the Crew-Ins or one of the other clubs. But I was stand-offish and didn't mix easily. I saw a lot of the scene, but I never felt comfortable there. So many of them just wanted to be gay. It was their life, their ambition. And I wanted more than that.

Work improved. I got small film roles, then bigger ones. In 1986 I starred in "The Salt Flats." It pulled in the awards but not the crowds. I met Ruth while working on that. We loved each other. We lived together and on Valentine's Day she sent me roses and oh God, we had so much. Those were the best three years of my life.

In 1988 there was the war, and after that there were no more roses. Not for anybody.

In 1992 they started rounding up the gays. They took Ruth while she was out looking for food. Why are they so frightened of us? They burned her with cigarette ends and made her give them my name. She signed a statement saying I'd seduced her. I didn't blame her. God, I loved her. I didn't blame her.

But she did. She killed herself in her cell. She couldn't live with betraying me, with giving up that last inch. Oh Ruth. . . .

They came for me. They told me that all of my films would be burned. They shaved off my hair and held my head down a toilet bowl and told jokes about lesbians. They brought me here and gave me drugs. I can't feel my tongue anymore. I can't speak.

The other gay women here, Rita, died two weeks ago. I imagine I'll die quite soon. It's strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years I had roses and I apologized to nobody.

I shall die here. Every last inch of me shall perish. Except one.

An inch. It's small and it's fragile and it's the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it, or sell it, or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.

I don't know who you are. Or whether you're a man or a woman. I may never see you or cry with you or get drunk with you. But I love you. I hope that you escape this place. I hope that the world turns and that things get better, and that one day people have roses again. I wish I could kiss you.

Valerie

X



12.28.2008

V for Vendetta Televised Speech


Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration - whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday - I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.

There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?

Cruelty and injustice...intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance, coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told...if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.

I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War. Terror. Disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you and in your panic, you turned to the now High Chancellor Adam Sutler. He promised you order. He promised you peace. And all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.

Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice and freedom are more than words - they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek...then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament. And together, we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever, be forgot!


12.26.2008

Farvel mitt liv, min kjærlighet… jeg savner deg!!!



Quizás es que aún no lo quiero aceptar o es que al hacerlo tuve un choque emocional que no supe cómo controlar, quizás es que creo ser el último bastión de fuerza y cordura que le queda a las personas que estuvimos contigo y si me dejo derrumbar, todo lo que construimos y todos los que te conocieron caerán también... No he sabido que decirte, no he sabido cómo despedirme, no he tenido el valor para decirte adiós.
Tal vez la razón por la que duele tanto separarnos es porque nuestras almas están conectadas. Tal vez siempre lo estuvieron y siempre lo estarán. Tal vez hemos vivido miles de vidas antes de esta y en cada una de ellas nos hemos encontrado.

Adiós significa no poder verte de nuevo, ni ver tu sonrisa, o cautivarme con el brillo de tus ojos. Significa nunca más ver tu rostro, ni hablar de nuevo contigo. NO... No lo acepto. Te amo, desde siempre lo he hecho y jamás dejaré de hacerlo.
Así que me rehuso a decir adiós, eso significaría el final. Y si esto se acaba, entonces también estaré acabado yo. No, no puedo decirte adiós.
Así que jamás te diré adiós, te amo demasiado y... esta despedida es lo único que no puedo hacer...
No, no quiero aceptarlo, no quiero creer que te fuiste como lo hiciste, me resulta imposible, otra treta del destino burlándose en mi cara y retorciendo heridas abiertas. Casi siento estar viviendo sonetos de una tragedia shakespeareana, siento como mi corazón se retuerce y arde en una tristeza abismal.

The storm lies in an empty sky and the sun lies in eclipse
And silently my world watches the calm apocalypse
Now I’m standing in the cold rain as it washes you away

Hoping I’m immortal because forever ends today


Sí, lo sé, ya no estás aquí y la falta que haces es impresionante, perdí a mi socia, mi amiga, mi compañera; planes derrumbados, proyectos incompletos, ya nada es igual. Te recuerdo e incluso el agua pierde su sabor, la vida se ve inerte, el brillo se opaca. No, no acepto que te hayas ido, al menos no del todo, ya no puedo abrazarte, ni sentir tu calor de nuevo, ya no acariciaré tu cabello, ni mis pensamientos perderé en el infinito verde de tus ojos... pero tu esencia prevalece… y por tu esencia sigo en pie.
Sólo quería decirte, por última vez… Farvel, mit liv, min kjærlighet… Møte i himmelen.

12.25.2008

FELIZ NAVIDAD!!!

Un poquito de historia… No es que sea históricamente correcto, no es que sea una cristianización de la celebración del Solsticio de Invierno, pero el colocar al 25 de diciembre fue la manera más inteligente de absorber las celebraciones de otras religiones y convertirlas al cristianismo, aunque no fueron erradicadas del todo las costumbres anteriores, pues, de ser la celebración del Nacimiento del Mesías Cristiano y honrarlo con la respectiva “Misa de Cristo”, jamás se pudo desplazar el espíritu de fiesta, bebida, baile, intercambio de obsequios y todo tipo de reuniones. Aunque los intentos de desterrar las viejas costumbres no faltaron, los cabecillas se dieron cuenta de cuan arraigadas estaban a las culturas locales, de modo que no tuvieron opción que absorberlas y convertirlas a la nueva religión dominante. Intercambios de regalo, bebida, cenas, fiestas y danzas eran bien recibidas y aceptadas como la “Adoración del Niño Dios”, Jesús, descendiente del linaje de David. Las grandes fiestas pasaron de ser un grosero festival a convertirse en una época para compartir con tus seres cercanos, de comunión con el prójimo.

La estrategia no pudo funcionar mejor, la religión cristiana es la predominante en el mundo occidental y la practicada por más personas a nivel mundial. Dada su complejidad religiosa, el Nacimiento del Niño Jesús ha podido desplazar antiguas tradiciones: El homenaje a Odín en los países nórdicos, La Saturnalia romana, El nacimiento de Apolonio de Tiana (filósofo y autodenominado profeta, griego) y el nacimiento del dios persa Mitra, que, de hecho, eran celebradas el 25 de diciembre también.

Pero lo importante de esta fecha no es el cómo llego allí, ni quién la proclamó, ni por qué… Lo importante es que este día se ha convertido en una fiesta mundial de un significado inmenso, es una época que invita a compartir, donde por un momento los problemas de cada quien parecen efímeros y solo te invade una alegría inexplicable… Así que simplemente quiero desearles una FELIZ NAVIDAD, FELIZ HANNUKAH, FELIZ KWANZA y un Honorable Ramadám, porque sin importar de que religión sean, esta época nos une…