sy.think/tell

Friday, 30 November 2012

Maybe you were free before my blackened wind covered you, I took the sing from your song, I made a bed where you don't belong

Ben Howard at the O2 Academy Brixton 29/11/2012: This is what happiness feels like. I was excited and content, his voice makes me smile. It's this joy that begins from my toes and runs all the way up my head and makes me want to dance and cry and shout and sing. Brilliant musician and performer, sweet character, beautiful brain, writing great music.
I will become what I deserve

You realise the sun doesn't go down it's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

All my life I have arrived early only to find myself standing self-consciously on a corner, outside a door, in an empty room, but the closer I get to death the earlier I arrive, the longer I am content to wait, perhaps to give myself the false sensation that there is too much time rather than not enough.
Nicole Krauss, Great House

I just talked about myself, and you, yourself; you should've talked about me, and me, about you

Our job is to love people. When it hurts. When it’s awkward. When it’s uncool and embarrassing. Our job is to stand together, to carry the burdens of one another and to meet each other in our questions.
Jamie Tworkowksi

He would put his hands on the table, in fact, because he wanted them within her reach

“I am crying", he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. "I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater". But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.
John Green, An Abundance of Katherines

Wednesday, 28 November 2012

But my heart was colder when you'd gone and I lost my head but found the one that I love, under the sun


All our lonely kicks are getting harder to find, awesome prince get your sleep lose your heart in history, make us laugh or nothing will

To see a World in a Grain of Sand 
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
William Blake

Whispers in the dark, steal a kiss and you'll break her heart, pick up your clothes and curl your toes, learn your lesson, lead me home

I know that some night
in some bedroom
soon
my fingers will
rift
through
soft clean
hair

songs such as no radio
playsall sadness, grinning
into flow.
Charles Bukowski
we will taste the islands and the sea

Monday, 26 November 2012

Never leave it too late, always enjoy the taste of the great grey world of hearts


She only ever walks to count her steps, eighteen strides and she stops to abide by the law that she herself has set - that eighteen steps is one complete set, and before the next nine right and nine left. She looks up at the blue and whispers to all of the above: ‘Don’t let me drown, don’t breath alone, no kicks no pangs no broken bones. Never let me sink, always feel at home, no sticks no shanks and no stones. Never leave it too late, always enjoy the taste of the great grey world of hearts.’ As all dogs everywhere bark, ‘It’s worth knowing, like all good fruit the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin.’

Take my badge but my heart remains, loving you baby child, tighten up on your reigns you're running wild, running wild, it's true

Down by the people if they let you breathe, don't give a damn if you still can't see, still my heart beats, for you have become all I love and all I hoped for. But I, must carry on, always one never broken. Run to the lobby where I saw you try, don't give a damn for your reasons why. Jake Bugg, Broken

I'm waiting for you for I'm broken down, coming down this time for my heart lies far and away where they took you down

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget. Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Sunday, 25 November 2012

The ones that make you smile and tense your belly at the same time

This was not the ending of their story.
Their letters were flying in the sky of his room
filling him with memories.
The little secret pieces of two people hidden
under the out-of-focus night lights.
They knew who they were.
It started with a dance under the sun.

Friday, 23 November 2012

What matters most is how well you walk through the fire

She was in the grip of an insuperable longing to fall. She lived in a constant state of vertigo. ‘Pick me up’, is the message of a person who keeps falling. Tomas kept picking her up, patiently. Milan Kundera, The unbearable lightness of being (p.58)

But my heart was colder when you'd gone and I lost my head but found the one that I love, under the sun

He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her. Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love. Both looked back then on the wild revelry, the gaudy wealth, and the unbridled fornication as an annoyance and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude. Madly in love after so many years of sterile complicity, they enjoyed the miracle of living each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs.
Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

I hated you when it would have taken less courage to love

There was always the typer to soothe me, to talk to me, to entertain me, to save my ass. Basically that’s why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.
Charles Bukowski, Hollywood

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

We control our thoughts which mean nothing, and not our emotions which mean everything

There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting. Consider this utterly commonplace situation: man is walking down the street. At a certain moment, he tries to recall something, but the recollection escapes him. Automatically, he slows down. Meanwhile, a person who wants to forget a disagreeable incident he has just lived through starts unconsciously to speed up his pace, as if he were trying to distance himself from a thing still too close to him in time. In existential mathematics, that experience takes the form of two basic equations: the degree of slowness is directly proportional to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.
Milan Kundera, Slowness

Friday, 16 November 2012

Instead I'm riding shotgun wondering how it feels, I remember the last time that we spoke and you said to me "I'm going back to the place I love"

Spector at O2 Shepherd's Bush Empire 10/11/2012: χαμήλωσαν τα φώτα και εμείς βλέπαμε από ψηλά καθώς πέντε αγόρια βγήκαν στη σκηνή. twenty nothing στην αρχή με χοροπηδητά και χαμόγελα. ο φρεντ τραγουδούσε και έδειχνε το κοινό, κοιτούσε τον καθένα ξεχωριστά και χαμογελούσε σε όλους σαν να είμαστε παρέα. πολύ ζωντανή μουσική, από αυτές που σε κάνουν χαρούμενο και σε κάνουν να σκέφτεσαι ταυτόχρονα. are you down for tonight, down for whatever like nothing could break your heart. στο τέλος έπαιξαν το never fade away και ανέβηκαν εκεί που είναι τα ντραμς, πήδηξαν κάτω όλοι μαζί και υποκλήθηκαν. μετά τη συναυλία βγήκαν από την πλαϊνή πόρτα και μίλησαν σε λίγο κόσμο που περίμενε και ο φρεντ μου έκανε κόλλα πέντε και βγάλαμε φωτογραφία και με την Κάμυ. Roll back your eyes let me in or let me go.

Saturday, 10 November 2012

He stood there in his boots unable to move and I came here to tell you that I love you

Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Neil Gaiman, The Sandman

It always comes around back to you, I walk with your shadow

Charles Bukowski, Cause and effect
the best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody
would ever want to
get away
from
them

Friday, 9 November 2012

I don't need to get steady I know just how I feel telling you to be ready my dear

I wonder what you look like, under your t-shirt. I wonder what you sound like, when you’re not wearing words. I wonder what we have, when we’re not pretending. Ani DiFranco

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Rise up forget about the past now, rise up you gotta take a chance across the river

Surround yourself with the dreamers and the doers, the believers and thinkers, but most of all, surround yourself with those who see the greatness within you, even when you don’t see it yourself. Edmund Lee φωτογραφία από το ντένη

Roll back your eyes, let me in or let me go

They haven't spoken about it, they haven't said what will we do when we leave here, do you want to come with me, let's work something out, and she knows that this means they will quickly and easily drift apart, into other people's lives, into other people's arms in rooms like this. She is surprised that this doesn't make her feel sad. She listens to the music, she looks around at the things people dropped when they fell asleep or went out of the room, she kisses the boy's arm again and she feels only a kind of sweet nostalgia. She wonders if you can feel nostalgic for something before it's in the past, she wonders if perhaps her vocabulary is too small or if her chemical intake has corroded it and the music goes doowah doowah doowah. Jon McGregor, If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things

I used to write, I used to write letters I used to sign my name

Never ignore a person who loves you, cares for you, and misses you. Because one day, you might wake up from your sleep and realize that you lost the moon while counting the stars

You don't have to stray the oceans away, waves roll in my thoughts

I'm not okay, not at all, the truth is, I'm missing something. The thing I loved the most, the face I wish were in the front row right now. So what do I do with that? What do any of us do? This is what I believe, right now, in this auditorium, there is someone who is with you, someone who is willing to pick you up, dust you off, kiss you, forgive you, put up with you, wait for you, carry you, love you. So while everything may not be okay, one thing I know is true, you do not have to be alone.
Norah, The Beaver

Rock fist paper scissors lingered fluffers in your hoof lies the heartland


We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing. Charles Bukowski