cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What Makes Her Different I'm watching her other films right now. There was something I realized as I was driving home alone last night. Helenah has watched me kill. She came out to the farm to film me shoot the deer so I'd have meat for the MEN F@ir. I knelt near the fence and watched the herd moving around for about five minutes while she and another camera operator filmed. Suddenly I had a clear shot at a doe about 40 yards away. It had to be a head shot with a .22 under the rules set by the farm owner. This is not an easy thing to accomplish. I was a little bit nervous. I know that I am a very good field shot with a rifle. In fact, I am extremely good. Probably I wouldn't do too well in a formal competition on benches among people with a lot of expensive equipment. But in the field, in real weather and with real prey moving around at either close or long distances I am a deadly man. I do not mention this very often. Not at all really. It doesn't seem right to brag about being very good at killing. The moment came and I visualized the brain within the moving head and I squeezed the trigger and the deer dropped as though a light switch had been turned off. She stood with her camera through it all. And several days afterward we drove together to the fair and spent 3 days and 2 nights together. And it was then that she acted *that way* towards me. Acted as though she loved me. She saw me kill. She saw me shoot something through the brain and cut it apart quickly and efficiently and carve it up into food and she could still love me after that. That was miraculous. I have felt completely alienated from the rest of mainstream America for years because of how coldly efficient and hungry I have become in the dealing out of death. I have hunted hungry so many times. Hunting is not a sport for me but I have hunted hungry so many times that I have that Pavlovian reaction. I kill with real gusto and without remorse (though without hate) and I know that this makes me an uncivilized man and that this distances me from other civilized human beings. Nobody has ever understood this. Nobody has understood the isolation that I have felt for years because of the poverty and hunger and need and my resulting will to kill. I know that what I have had to become is abhorrent to most modern people. I also know that what I do is right and good and that it is the modern perspective which is, historically and naturally, skewed. But that doesn't change the fact of my isolation. And then Helenah came along. Helenah showed up and inserted herself into my life and she watched me kill. She watched this violent death that I caused and then she still accepted me and acted as though she loved me. Perhaps its the fact that she isn't American. She is Swedish. I don't know. I don't care. She saw what I am and what I do and she accepted it. She didn't fear me. She let me tuck her into bed. This is utterly profound to me. I don't ever want to let this woman go. And holy shit, right when I was about to write that last sentence she sent to me -- at 1:30 am -- a photograph that she took as I steadied that rifle just before I took that shot. Wow. I want to tell her why this was amazing that she just sent me that picture but it seems like that would be too much, too soon. Especially for a Swedish woman. Swedes are funny about emotions. They seem to like to be very reserved for a long time. I know that it is their way of showing respect. I've been doing a lot of research about Swedish customs and attitudes. I want to understand everything about her. She is the only thing that I can think about. She know exactly what I am and she accepts it. And she's brilliant. And gorgeous. The timing is good. She is getting to know me right when I really seem to be hitting my stride, professionally. I am currently the #5 best-selling book in the hunting category on Am@zon dot com. She was right there with me for my victory lap over the weekend. Crowds of hundreds of people cramming into rooms to hear me speak. Fans asking for my autograph. Literally, that was happening. People kept asking me for my autograph. I am good with research and hosting and being on camera and running publicity. She is a very skilled cinematographer and director. We have all of the same interests. We spent at least an hour over dinner on Friday night talking passionately about the botany of the Galapagos islands. We would be so good together. I could spend the rest of my life very happily traveling with this woman and making books and films together. She just sent me another email. A cute one, telling me that as her secretary she is ordering me to go to bed. Its a whole thing. She is so good about keeping me on my schedule that she jokes about being my secretary. I responded that she is supposed to go to bed as well but that I don't know how she will manage without someone to tuck her in. I really love her. I hope that she understands that now. She emailed me back. I just love her. She has to know. It would be so good. We would be so good. It could be epic. We could do such great things together. I don't know that I will ever meet anyone else who can accept what I am. Fuuuuuuck. I want this so badly. 12:59 a.m. - 2011-09-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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