Last night I couldn't sleep and decided to watch this DVD I bought on Saturday. It was Adrian Lyne's Lolita. I had seen it several years back when I was still living in San Bruno. It was on Showtime. This movie is so moving in its destruction that I find it difficult to watch. And yet I still sought to acquire it, and watch it again and again.
Nabokov's words are so beautiful, painful, and absolute.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.
I finished the whole thing and slept at around 2am, dreams tainted by the destruction brought forth by Lo and Humpert.
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