Wednesday, 28 March 2012

My life story is the story of everyone I've ever met

ήταν κάτι παιδιά στη σχολή σήμερα δίπλα στο ποτάμι και πέταξαν δίπλα στους κύκνους άπειρα χάρτινα καραβάκια και έκαναν σβούρες στο νερό

There's ritual in the dance my love and under day old sheets we will dance my love

I ran away, hands stuck in pockets that seemed
All holes; my jacket was a holey ghost as well.
I followed you, Muse! Beneath your spell,
Oh, la, la, what glorious love I dreamed!
I tore my shirt; I threw away my tie.
Dreamy Hop o’ my Thumb, I made rhymes
As I ran. I slept out most of the time.
The stars above me rustled through the sky.
I heard them on the roadsides where I stopped
Those fine September nights, when dew dropped
On my face and I licked it to get drunk.
I made up rhymes in dark and scary places,
And like a lyre I plucked the tired laces
Of my worn-out shoes, one foot beneath my heart.
Arthur Rimbaud, Wandering 

Saturday, 24 March 2012

You know sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage

A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world. – On The Road, Jack Kerouac

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Does it help you stay up late? Does it help you concentrate?

If you listen, you can hear it. The city, it sings. If you stand quietly, at the foot of a garden, in the middle of the street, on the roof of a house. It's clearest at night, when the sound cuts more sharply across the surface of things, when the song reaches out to a place inside you. It's a wordless song, for the most, but it's a song all the same, and nobody hearing it could doubt what it sings. And the song sings the loudest when you pick out each note. – Jon McGregor, If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things

Monday, 19 March 2012

Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Sunday, 18 March 2012

Αnd you just feel ignored for long enough and it's just nice to feel special sometimes

Anna: But it's nice being away. I think it's important to get away from your...where you've grown up for some of your life. Jacob: I was thinking about leaving right now, actually. [Anna laughs] Jacob: Let's go. Where do you wanna go?

Friday, 16 March 2012

One of those games you're gonna lose but you wanna play it just in case

Δεν μου αρέσουν οι αλλαγές. Στα μέρη, στους ανθρώπους, υπάρχουν αναμνήσεις. Σε κάθε σημαδάκι στο σώμα, γράμματα στους τοίχους ή κρυμμένα στα συρτάρια, οι θέσεις τους είναι εκεί δεν πρέπει να αλλάζουν. Μερικά πράματα είναι ωραίο να είναι σταθερά όπως η θέση του γραφείου και του κρεβατιού και το σημείο που μπαίνει το νερό στο ψυγείο. Όταν τίποτα με τους ανθρώπους δεν ειναι σίγουρο είναι ωραίο να μπορώ να βρώ την κούπα και το γάλα μου στις θέσεις τους με κλειστά μάτια.

And then we'll see what happens, we're just taking it each day as it comes

I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it. But I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it's the halves that halve you in half. I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me.
Like Crazy αυτή η ιστορία μου θυμίζει τόσο πολλά πράγματα, τόσα χαμόγελα, τόσα αγκαλίτσο, τόσα γέλια και αταξίες, όλα τα καλά και όλα τα κακά

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

You'll go and you can see all you gave her, you'll flee the door your eyes glowing

Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone, and I'm horribly cold. I really should drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we've entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.
The English Patient

Monday, 12 March 2012

It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun

αυτή η πόλη πάντα με κάνει να χαμογελάω! περπατάω και λέω τα αστεία μου από μέσα μου και γελάω, θέλω να γίνω φίλη με όλους, να χορεύω στον δρόμο σαν καραγκιόζης και να τραγουδάω δυνατά την μουσική που ακούω με τα ακουστικά μου

I wanted to eat his pain, take it into me and make it my own

I really love sad things, I love sad music. Even though I have a very happy life, I'm drawn to those things in art. Robin Hood with foxes (μεγάλη αγάπη, το ξέρει όποιος έχει δεν τις άπειρες ζωγραφιές στους τοίχους). Δύο από τους πιο αγαπημένους μου σε ένα βίντεο, με ήρεμες φωνές και ωραία λόγια.

Sunday, 11 March 2012

We look younger than we feel, and older than we are and now nobody's funny

And when you look at the sky you know you are looking at stars which are hundreds and thousands of light-years away from you. And some of the stars don’t even exist anymore because their light has taken so long to get to us that they are already dead, or they have exploded and collapsed into red dwarfs. And that makes you seem very small, and if you have difficult things in you life it is nice to think that they are what is called negligible, which means they are so small you don’t have to take them into account when you are calculating something.
Mark Haddon, The curious incident of the dog in the night-time

We never said that it would be easy, just that the way love grows, we have to go to

Μου είπαν πως για να τον κάνεις να σε ερωτευτεί πρέπει να τον κάνεις να γελάσει.. Αλλά όσες φορές γελούσε.. τον ερωτευόμουν εγώ. (δεν ξέρω ποιός το έχει γράψει αλλά μου αρέσει πολύ)

So you've got yourself in a hole and you can't get out, I won't be there can't be around so hold me down and let you know

Καμιά φορά όταν είναι στεναχωρημένη αυτό που την κάνει να χαμογελάει είναι να κάνει άλλους χαρούμενους. Είδα το dangerous method σήμερα, πολύ ωραίο μου άρεσε αυτή η εικόνα πάρα πολύ

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

I read so I can live more than one life in more than one place

Είναι μερικές ιστορίες που θες να διαβάζεις για πάντα, να έχεις ένα βιβλίο που δεν μπορείς να αφήσεις και το συναίσθημα να μην τελειώνει ποτέ. Είναι πολύ περίεργη η σχέση με τα βιβλία.

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Unfair we’re not somewhere misbehaving for days great escape lost track of time and space

He found it restful to watch people's conversations without being expected to join in. But he always felt sort of lonesome if he didn't have someone next to him to nudge in the ribs at the good parts. Noah's Compass, Anne Tyler

Monday, 5 March 2012

You are a good watcher, us loners always are

Ήταν ήσυχος και έκανε περίεργα αστεία – όταν αποφάσιζε να μιλήσει. Ξαφνικά τον πείραξε και θύμωσε, θύμωσε και δεν μπορούσε να ελέγξει τίποτα, έσπρωχνε σαν να πρέπει να σπάσει έναν τοίχο, να τον διαλύσει και να γκρεμίσει όλα όσα νιώθει, αυτά που τον εκνεύρισαν, αυτά που έκαναν το μυαλό του να θολώσει, αυτά που θολώνουν όλων το μυαλό, χαλάνε τις σκέψεις και όλα είναι ανακατεμένα, ανακατεμένα και πονάνε το κεφάλι μέχρι να πρέπει να σπρώξεις, να σπρώξεις και να τα σπάσεις όλα που σε ενοχλούν.

Friday, 2 March 2012

I didn’t need you, you idiot I picked you, and then you picked me back

“Everything,' his father said, 'comes down to time in the end – to the passing of time, to changing. Ever thought of that? Anything that makes you happy or sad, isn't it all based on minutes going by? Isn't sadness wishing time back again? Even big things – even mourning a death: aren't you really just wishing to have the time back when that person was alive? Or photos – ever notice old photographs? How wistful they make you feel? ... Isn't it just that time for once is stopped that makes you wistful? If only you could turn it back again, you think. If only you could change this or that, undo what you have done, if only you could roll the minutes the other way, for once.”
Anne Tyler, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant

There are tunnels through the stone where weaker hearts have made a home

και τα αεροπλάνα καθρεφτίζονται στο νερό καθώς ακούει το καινούριο αγαπημένο της τραγούδι και της αρέσει που είναι ανάμεσα σε πολύ κόσμο χωρίς να πειράζει που είναι ήσυχη

Thursday, 1 March 2012

And the same song is playing on the car radio, and she climbs up and starts dancing on the roof of the car

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don't like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don't know why we are sad, so we say we aren't sad but we really are. – The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, Mark Haddon