August 2, 2009
I think people are color-blind in the morning. When I wake up and look out the window, I can’t tell if the sky is blue or gray. Likewise, I can’t tell which way this day is going to take me. And sometimes a bit of grogginess is all it takes for a thought to take me by surprise. Read the rest of this entry »
February 20, 2009
want nothing but
may be youll see her to day
bathroom disinfectant like putrid chestnuts
sit and shit and ponder the meaning of life
and forgodssakes keep your eyes closed when brushing your teeth
food minus taste
add mustard or ketchup or mayonnaise
not nonsweet sugar but
sweet sugarfree sweetener
and filteredwater with a distinct taste
the taste of chewinggum overchewed
free hugs sorries and thanks no thanks
her eyes smile
but she dreamsnot what youdream
outofphase ambulance wails
twelvestrobes in fivedirections
smilingfaces on the website
of a mental hospital
and a twentyfourseven funeral service
pin ging stree tlights
walk inwhite stop inred
newspeak in the t station
depth of field decrease
and pull the shades down
planes taking off at threeinthemorning
surroundsound fire alarms
sweaty feet under nylon sheets
the sound of ventilation is your lullaby
overload not sensory synesthetic
colors of france britain russia and the czech republic
despair brown. cells abcdeeing you
hope not from above from the underground
from the grave of beethoven
stomach rumbling like a badharddisk
to forgetsomeone is as easy as removefromcontactlist
the wood texture on this nonwood desk is p i x e l a t e d
August 9, 2008
(which is unfortunately unavailable online)
- People don’t want reasons to do what they’d like to do. […] They want excuses.
- It’s like lying and not knowing you’re lying, that’s what’s fatal. […]
- The tragedy of life is that sometimes we get what we want.
- When I’ve seen you go into an empty room I’ve sometimes wanted to open the door suddenly, but I’ve been afraid to in case I found nobody there.
- “the origin of poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity”
- […] It’s we, the actors, who are the reality. […] They are our raw material. We are the meaning of their lives.
[…] Why, it’s only we who do exist. They are the shadows and we give them substance. We are the symbols of all this confused, aimless struggling that they call life, and it’s only the symbol which is real. They say acting is only make-believe. That make-believe is the only reality.
July 15, 2008
by Stephen Chbosky.
Here’s how the novel starts. If such a beginning can leave you indifferent, you’re very unlike me.
August 25, 1991
I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don’t try to figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don’t want you to do that. I will call people by different names or generic names because I don’t want you to find me. I didn’t enclose a return address for the same reason. I mean nothing bad by this. Honest.
I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist.
Charlie is a high school freshman caught between the colliding forces of inner turmoil and outside influences. The novel tells the story of a year in his life, in the form of letters to an anonymous friend. While it was difficult, at times, to believe that such deep thoughts could have originated from a 15-year-old, that didn’t stop me from feeling and relating with the character.
One could say the novel is a testimony of the friction between two desires: to embrace life, and to run away from life. But it is discussing a lot more than that. Since I have not grown up in an American high school environment, I cannot think of this in terms of “realistic” or “non-realistic”, but it certainly opens a clear and honest window into the world of a teenager.
I find it very lucky, if not downright miraculous, that Charlie manages to find a mentor (Bill, his English teacher) and friends (Patrick and Sam), who are older than him. Bill tells him to participate and stop using thought to remove himself from life. V fubhyq yrnea fbzrguvat sebz gung…
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July 6, 2008
by Megan McCafferty.
(sequel to Second Helpings, sequel to Sloppy Firsts)
A note on the style of writing… convoluted, antithetic, yet hilarious. Here’s a typical sentence:
“Thus, the of-the-moment, faux-antifashion fashion statement was to go out looking like you really didn’t care what you looked like when you went out.”
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