Thursday, 23 February 2017
Wednesday, 22 February 2017
Monday, 13 February 2017
I fell into a feverish state that passed for sleep at times. In it I dreamed that I had lost my suitcase on a train. A shrouded woman was sitting opposite in the same compartment, and the train, unlit, halted at a big country junction. The woman, though we hadn't exchanged a word was important to me. Next, both woman and suitcase disappeared. I knew I had to find both immediately and searched the train which was packed without success. Finally I got of it to look on the platform ; it was blinding down with rain. Thousands of people were hurrying about round me, jostling each other. When I found no sign either of the woman or my case I turned to get back on the train again, only to find that it had left. Now I was alone under the glaring lamps, the wet rails.
How the Dead Live
Friday, 10 February 2017
I think the way you stop it is to shrug it off. Or take it with your tongue in your cheek. Sure that's the system. At any rate it's the system that works for you. It's the automatic control board that keeps you out there where nothing matters, where it's only you and the keyboard and nothing else. Because it's gotta be that way. You gotta stay clear of anything serious.
Shoot the Piano Player
Tuesday, 7 February 2017
Thursday, 2 February 2017
Wednesday, 1 February 2017
Thursday, 26 January 2017
He had a broad flat face, rough reddish skin and little reddish eyes from which tears leaked continuously. He was called Red Johhny. He might have been related to Pinky.
He wore a white silk shirt open at the throat, gren-and-red checked suspenders, tan gabardine pants, white and tan wing-tipped shoes, and the usual heavy gold jewellery denoting a successful pimp; gold ring with a huge milky stone of unknown origin, gold ring with three-quarter-carat yellow diamond, and a gold lodge ring with the outline of an owl with two ruby eyes.
He crossed glances with Red Marie, standing to the left and behind Coffin Ed, then he spread his thick fingered hands and looked at the gun bulge on Coffin Ed's shoulder.
The Heat's On
Monday, 23 January 2017
Sunday, 22 January 2017
She disappeared. I got up and put my clothes on and listened before I went out, but there was no answer. When I reached the sidewalk in front of the house the taxi was just pulling up. I looked back. The house seemed completely dark.
Friday, 20 January 2017
Someone once said life is all conjunctions, just one damn thing after another. But so much of it's not connected. You're sliding along, hit a bump and come down in a life you don't recognize. Every day you head in a dozen different directions, become a dozen different people ; some of them make it back home that night, others don't.
Wednesday, 18 January 2017
You know it was a revelation for me to learn that I don't have to be comfortable. Nowhere is written that I must be comfortable. I also thought that if I felt nervous or anxious or unhappy I had to do something but that's not true. Bad feelings won't kill me. Alcohol will kill me but my feelings won't.
Eight Million Ways to Die