“Complaining about boring football is a little like complaining about the sad ending of King Lear: it misses the point somehow, and this is what Alan Durban understood: that football is an alternative universe, as serious and as stressful as work, with the same worries and hopes and disappoitnments and occasional elations. I go to football for loads of reasons, but I don’t go for entertainment, and when I look around me on a Saturday and see those panicky, glum faces, I see that others feel the same. For the committed fan, entertainment in football exists in the same way as those trees that fall in the middle of the jungle: you presume it happens, but you’re not in a position to appreciate it.”—Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch
Song of the Day: Sous Le Ciel de Paris by Juliette Gréco
Sous le ciel de Paris S’envole une chanson Mmm, mmm Elle est née d’aujourd’hui Dans le cœur d’un garçon Sous le ciel de Paris Marchent des amoureux Mmm, mmm Leur bonheur se construit Sur un air fait pour eux
onabeautifulday: I just found your writing tumblr but your last post was on August 14. Do you think you’ll ever go back to posting there?
Yes, absolutely. I’ve already had a few things knocking around in my head that I want to write down. I promise something will be up within the next week. :) Those who are curious it’s Discourse On Lifeand it’s my thoughts/essays tumblr. I don’t, for instance, post my poetry and short stories there. It’s all nonfiction stuff that I think about or encounter.
wordsorcerer: I love your blog! :) so, where do you study? you’re an english lit major, right? :D
Thank you, that’s lovely of you to say. I don’t actually announce where I’m going to uni because I literally don’t keep anything else a secret and I think that’s a bit too location-specific. As for my major, I was a double major, Psych/English Lit, but I actually just dropped English Lit. I’m now just a Psych major. I love psychology with a passion and I want to help people once I graduate. The reality for English with me is that I wasn’t enjoying it as a subject anymore. Once I stopped doing it, I ended up reading more and enjoying it more. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it, but it wasn’t right for me. That said, I did two whole years of Eng Lit at uni, so.
overtakeme: hey! just here to ask if you have any recommendations on books from early-ish 20th century? any favourites?
Letters to a Young Poetby Rainer Maria Rilke, Peter Pan by J M Barrie, The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa, The Easter Paradeby Richard Yates, Lolitaby Vladimir Nabokov anything by George Orwell or Virginia Woolf. I’m afraid that’s all I can think of off the top of my head, I’m actually not that great at thinking about books chronologically or by genre. I just remember books I love.
“My brain persisted—as any bodily organ would—in trying to heal what was in effect a bruise. The bruise was the memory. And to remain what I thought of as human, I had to keep fighting against my basic, animal, healing response. That’s what the first day was like. The sensation I was fighting is maybe close to denial. But it’s not exactly denial.”—Darin Strauss, Half a Life
Song of the Day: I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor by Arctic Monkeys
I bet that you look good on the dancefloor I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or I don’t know what you’re looking for I said, I bet that you look good on the dancefloor dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984.
My last exam is in four hours and once it’s over, I’m grabbing my friends and we’re going dancing. I do not look good dancing but that has never stopped me.
Stop making the eyes at me and I’ll stop making the eyes at you what it is that surprises me is that I don’t really want you to.
“The conscious mind is not at the centre of the action in the brain; instead, it is far out on a distant edge, hearing but whispers of the activity.”—David Eagleman, Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain
Song of the Day: Fireworks by Drake Feat. Alicia Keys
How many of our parents’ marriages lasted? I was only 5, I bet I barely reacted I’m flying back home for the heritage classic searching for that feeling, tell me where is the magic? let’s stay together ’til we’re ghosts I want to witness love, I’ve never seen it close yeah, but I guess I gotta find it first
“I’ve come to see our central nervous system as a kind of vintage switchboard, all thick foam wires and old-fashioned plugs. The circuitry isn’t properly equipped; after a surplus of emotional information the system overloads, the circuit breaks, the board runs dark. That’s what shock is.”—Darin Strauss, Half a Life
I hate that neuroscience is so interesting but so difficult to memorise.
I’d love to have an eidetic memory. My next exam is in less than nine hours and I’m freaking out. I’d love it if science exams were oral. If I could sit and have a chat with my lecturer I bet I’d ace this exam. As it stands I’m dubious about a pass.
Well, I may be biased, but I think so. I definitely put a lot of time and effort into it. I think there’s always room to grow and in my case the room is very very large and I’m taking up very little of it, but I think my stuff is decent. I wrote it when I was fifteen and published it at sixteen, so there’s bound to be flaws.
“At the end of this day there remains what remained yesterday and what will remain tomorrow: the insatiable, unquantifiable longing to be both the same and other.”—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
“My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.”—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
“I didn’t know the right answer, and didn’t have confidence in how I’d respond.
So I quietly indulged in the self-pity that, in the venerable tradition of sad people everywhere, I felt entitled to.”—Darin Strauss, Half a Life
“I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of the mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed.”—Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
“It is a rule of life that we can and must learn from everyone. There are serious matters in life to be learned from charlatans and bandits, there are philosophies to be gleaned from fools, real lessons of fortitude that come to us by chance and from those who depend on chance. Everything contains everything else.”—Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
“Kurt was more like an unpredictable younger brother who refused to grow up than a father. He was a wonderful writer and capable of great warmth and kindness, but he fiercely defended and exercised his right to be a pain in the ass on a regular basis.”—Mark Vonnegut, Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness Only More So
“My father gave me the gifts of being able to pay attention to my inner narration no matter how tedious the damn thing could be at times and the knowledge that creating something, be it music or a painting or a poem or a short story, was a way out of wherever you were and a way to find out what the hell happens next and not have it be just the same old thing. It’s better to live in a world where you can write and paint and tell a few jokes than one where you can’t.”—Mark Vonnegut, Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness Only More So
“The curious thing about David’s fiction, though, is how recognized and comforted, how loved, his most devoted readers feel when reading it. To the extent that each of us is stranded on his or her own existential island—and I think it’s approximately correct to say that his most susceptible readers are ones familiar with the socially and spiritually isolating effects of addiction or compulsion or depression—we gratefully seized on each new dispatch from that farthest-away island which was David.”—Jonathan Franzen, Farther Away