Desde que no hay maldad
Todo el mundo se ríe
De mi ansiedad
Yo lo llamo poesía
y le dicen vanidad...

(...) Fundamentar el proyecto de vida en torno al amor es otra actitud frecuente. La fuerte sensación de placer que produce la satisfacción del instinto sexual nos hace ver en ella un modelo de felicidad. No obstante, este modo de vida que, frente a los anteriores, se orienta hacia la búsqueda positiva del placer y no a un mero intento de eludir del sufrimiento, tiene un inconveniente: nos deja a merced del dolor tan pronto como no somos capaces de alcanzar el objeto de nuestro amor, lo que ocurre con demasiada asiduidad. (...)

(Del malestar en la cultura, Freud)

No volveré - Chavela Vargas

pesadilla

un cuerpo de mujer lanzado de un hombre a otro, una masa inerte, pesada, muerta, pasada de manos en manos. sin violencia ni resistencia.
ojo inerte.

The Beatles - I Want You (She's So Heavy)

How do you sleep at night!?!?!

Jacques-Alain Miller

You Are the Woman of the Other and I Desire You

http://www.lacan.com/essays/?page_id=331

[…]

The downgrading of love for Freud seems obvious when one reads what for him is the prototype, Vorbild, of any relationship, of all Liebe. The prototype of any romantic or erotic relationship – this word best conveys the meaning – is the child being fed by the mother's breast. If this were the definition of love, we could say it represents a debasement of love. We define love as the repetition of that primary satisfaction. We can consider what is unsatisfactory in this definition if we take it as a developed definition of love. Love not only means to jouir from an object: it is to short-circuit the definition of love to define it only by the relationship between a subject lacking-in-jouissance and an object that embodies that satisfaction. Developed love needs that this object be found in a person, a person with an imaginary nature, and not only a purely objectal one. This is the ambiguity of the Freudian Liebe: on the one hand, it is love, on the other, it includes jouissance. The breast, it must be said, is not a person.

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