sy.think/tell

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Maybe I was mistaken but I just cannot manage to make it through the day without thinking of you lately

There are people we meet in life who miss being important to us by inches, days, or heartbeats. Another place or time or a different emotional frame of mind and we would willingly fall into their arms; gladly take up their challenge or invitation. But as it is, we encounter them when we are discontent or content and they are not. Whatever they are, we are not and vice versa. Two trains going in different directions that pass for a few powerful moments at full speed, blasting noise and wind but then they are gone. Whatever serious chemistry might have been possible if, isn’t.
Jonathan Carroll

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Speak in words you picked up as you walked through life alone, we used to swim in your stories and be pulled down by their tide

I guess that's all forever is. Just one big long trail of nows. And I guess all you can do is try and live one now at a time without getting too worked up about the last now or the next now.

So wake me up when it's all over when I'm wiser and I'm older, all this time I was finding myself and I didn't know I was lost

I wanted in. I just wanted us to live again. For years I thought we’ve shared this secret that we would be wonderful in the world. I don’t know exactly how, but just the possibility kept me hoping. How pathetic is that? So stupid. To put all your hopes in a promise that was never made. Frank knows what he wants, he found his place, he’s just fine. Married, two kids, it should be enough. It is for him. And he’s right; we were never special or destined for anything at all. Revolutionary Road

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Been wondering if you’re heart’s still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts

"Come here," she said, and I took a step forward. She hugged me, and the bags made it hard to hug her back, but if I dropped them I might wake someone. I could feel her on her tiptoes and then her mouth was right up against my ear and she said, very clearly, "I. Will. Miss. Hanging. Out. With. You." John Green

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new now I've thought it through, crawling back to you - so have you got the guts?

She feels the good strong weight of the white-shirted boy's arm across her chest, she tilts her head forward to kiss it. The music goes doowah doowah I love you so, and she thinks about the two of them. 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 bad. 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. jon mcgregor

I didn't go far and I came home, but he said there goes our love again, elate my heart and take the time that's burning at the back of my mind

So now you're on your own, won't you come back home to see you're not that kind and find the strength to find another way

That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Monday, 2 September 2013

Now I am a heart with a head on my shoulders and I can say that I'm a different child

This is a story that now has to be written. It is the story of no ones. The story of us and them, always together, always so far. And I look at the people again. How many have been hurt? How many can see and think like me? I want to live now in the night, go out so late with my music and have the wind blowing in my face, be able to be, with no more loudness and shouting, not inside my head or out. Just listen to this music and know that sometimes the words in my ears can be true. (από αρχή καλοκαιριού)

You hold on to love that's gone, run a mile to see him smile but you don't know he's door to door playin' you for the fool, let him go walk out your door and come to me I'm gonna set you free

Because things change and they change as quick as lighting. I love the world. I love the way they stand and they think, I love the way they kiss and dance, I love looking at how they look when I look at them. Sometimes the less I know them the more I like them. What is it that happens when you spend so long with someone and then it stops? This music in my ears is so loud and these thoughts are so quiet but no one can hear either. And then it is swimming in the sea and singing in the shower, dancing everywhere and only smiling, and everything is rising in my eyes like a jump in the waves that wants to forget all that is not there anymore. “Your hand-writing isn’t as nice anymore”.(από αρχή καλοκαιριού)

And like the sea, I’m constantly changing from calm to hell

She waited for the train to pass. Then she said, “I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while. Haruki Murakami

Oh I heard you were trouble and you heard I was trouble but your name is a wave washing over me


But you know what they say about trouble - pull me down if you want to and I hope that you want to, cause I want to be your man and I wanna say it loud. You can show me where trouble goes, tell me secrets only trouble knows cause you wanna be my girl and you wanna say it loud.

We are in that moment now, there is silence and this is a pause worth savouring because the world will soon be complicated again

So listen. Listen, and there is more to hear.
A whistle and a shout and a broken glass, a blare of soft music and a blam of hard beats, a barking and yelling and singing and crying and it all swells up all the rumbles and crashes and bangings and slams, all the noise and the rush and the non-stop wonder of the song of the city you can hear if you listen the song
and it stops
in some rare and sacred dead time, sandwiched between the late sleepers and the early risers, there is a miracle of silence.
Everything has stopped.
jon mcgregor