Saturday, February 28, 2009

Plain Pleasures

"The farther a man follows the rainbow, the harder it is for him to get back to the life which he left starving like an old dog. Sometimes when a man gets older he has a revelation and wants awfully bad to get back to the place where he left his life, but can't get to that place - not often. It's always better to stay alongside your life."

From Plain Pleasures by Jane Bowles.

Friday, February 27, 2009

"At the intersection, the streetlights were all aglow. Reds, yellows and greens. The headlights of cars as they come careening by, flash on and off in the corner of my eye. Everything B-L-I-N-K-I-N-G. Like Christmas. Upturned collars of overcoats sway in the wind. Hands in pockets, we hunch over, balling ourselves up to face the chill. This is not the time to hold hands (so convenient an excuse). The smell of butternut squash soup from the restaurant sticks to our clothes, and its nutty fragrance obscures the commonplace odor of garbage, urine and spilled alcohol that you encounter on this side of the city. Down below in the station, a train arrives and departs with a long whizz, and then a brief wail. "Hope that's not ours." Indifference, then, "And if so, what then? At least it's warm inside." Down we go. Off with the gloves."

From The Evening Walk by Jonathan Taft.

“If you think you might have secret information listening to me, you’re lost.”

- Morton Feldman.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Lifeline slipping

"And it continued on like this for several blocks. My scarf, loosened from constant movement, had to be repeatedly adjusted to protect myself from the chill. We walked fast. I too fast, perhaps. Never glancing back, I talked ahead and kept my sights forward, scanning the rooftops for an audience more receptive than that which was behind me. But no such luck. Still I told myself, "Don't look back." Patronizing, dismissive and without care. In retrospect, regretfully. On towards to no warm place and further from the perfect evening we had both (presumably) envisioned."

From The Evening Walk by Jonathan Taft.

"My mistakes are my life."

From How It Is by Samuel Beckett.