sy.think/tell

Thursday, 31 October 2013

I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week how many secrets can you keep? Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep

When two people meet, each one is changed by the other so you got two new people. Maybe that means — hell, it’s complicated.
John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine, exile it takes your mind again, oh you meant so much have you given up?

We forget we’re
mostly water
till the rain falls
and every atom
in our body
starts to go home.
Albert Huffstickler

She looks as if she's blowing a kiss at me
 and suddenly the sky is a scissor
 sitting on the floor with a tambourine
 crushing up a bundle of love

Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than the atoms in your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about the universe: we are all stardust. You wouldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded because the elements (the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, all the things that matter for evolution) weren’t created at the beginning of time, they were created in stars. So forget Jesus. Stars died so you could live.
Lawrence Krauss, A Universe from Nothing

Saturday, 26 October 2013

You better get real, real, real and realise that the situation is going nowhere because you act so tough I totally lost control so please try to understand that if I could, I'd call and I would be there

We'll head south just hold my hand now, I feel like I'm casting off my clothes and I'm running through the snow towards the sunset and I'm always with you

You’ll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living breathing screaming invitation to believe better things.
Jamie Tworkowski

Monday, 14 October 2013

I don't see what's strange about this, tiny bubbles hang above me it's a sign that someone loves me, I have faith but don't believe you

We throw the frisbee farther than anyone has ever seen a frisbee go. First it goes higher than anyone has thrown before, so that in the middle of the pale blue there is only the sun’s glazed headlight and the tiny white disc, and then it goes farther than anyone has known a frisbee to go, with us having to use miles of beach, from one cliff to the other, thousands of people in between, to catch it. It’s the trajectory that’s important, we know that, that the distance relies on both velocity and angle of flight, that you have to throw the hell out of the thing, and also put it on the correct trajectory, an upward trajectory both straight and steady, not too high, not too low, because if it’s sent on the right upward path, its momentum will carry it almost twice the distance, the second half on its way down, the second half a gimme, meaning that you need only to provide for half of its distance yourself, it’s momentum providing for the second half, when finally its forward progress slows and slows and stops and it falls, as if parachuting, and then we move and run under, our quick steps scratching into the wet sand and when it falls, it falls into our hands, because we are there. We look like professionals, like we’ve been playing together for years. Busty women stop and stare. Senior citizens sit and shake their heads, gasping. Religious people fall to the knees. No one has ever seen anything like it.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Everything I love is on the table, everything I love is out to sea, I have only two emotions careful fear and dead devotion

Start telling the stories that only you can tell, because there’ll always be better writers than you and there’ll always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or doing that — but you are the only you. Neil Gaiman

I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point “If this isn’t nice I don’t know what is"

But that’s the wonderful thing about foreign travel, suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most basic sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses . Bill Bryson 
(δεν έγιναν όλα αυτά στην Ικαρία αλλά κάποιοι στη φωτογραφία είναι σαφώς μπερδεμένοι. και σίγουρα ένιωθα πέντε χρονών και χαρούμενη.)

All of my thoughts of you bullets through rock and through come apart at the seams now I know what dying means, take the wild ones they're my favorites It's the side effects that save us


το αγαπημένο μου βίντεο εδώ και πολλές μέρες.
ζήτω οι μπύρες και τα κουστούμια στην πισίνα.

You keep my secrets and I keep none, wish I could go back and keep some, it’s fireproof nothing breaks your heart

I want to be an old letter
living in the back pocket
of your summer jeans
in between the salty fabric
and last year's sand.
The lines of my paper 
washed with time 
showing the importance of us. 
Being happiness remembered
and emotions lost,
found in words of the past.

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

He is born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad

He smiled understandingly – much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced – or seemed to face – the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on your with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. F. Scott Fitzgerald

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

She said I was a first time caller but a long time listener, I've been waiting a while to talk to you

The next suitable person you’re in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, ‘What’s wrong?’ You say it in a concerned way. He’ll say, ‘What do you mean?’ You say, ‘Something’s wrong. I can tell. What is it?’ And he’ll look stunned and say, ‘How did you know? He doesn’t realize something’s always wrong, with everybody. Often more than one thing. He doesn’t know everybody’s always going around all the time with something wrong and believing they’re exerting great willpower and control to keep other people, for whom they think nothing’s ever wrong, from seeing it.
David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for

Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.
George Orwell, 1984