November 2012
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September 2012
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I had two dreams about him after he died. I dont remember the first one all that well but it was about meetin him in town somewheres and he give me some money and I think I lost it. But the second one it was like we was both back in older times and I was on horseback goin through the mountains of a night. Goin through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he...
August 2012
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July 2012
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March 2012
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We have no idea, now, of who or what the inhabitants of our future might be. In that sense, we have no future. Not in the sense that our grandparents had a future, or thought they did. Fully imagined cultural futures were the luxury of another day, one in which ‘now’ was of some greater duration. For us, of course, things can change so abruptly, so violently, so profoundly, that...
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February 2012
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Can you hear me call? I have a lot of things I reminisce about. After all, I have nothing here. For example, things like summer clouds and cold rain. Things like the smell of a fall breeze, like the sound of rain drops hitting an umbrella, like the softness of spring soil. Like the feeling of peace at the convenience store in the middle of the night…
- Makoto Shinkai, Voices of a Distant...
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November 2011
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“pat, there’s no way to know where to go from here, it seems to me. i’ve been thinking about it all these years you’ve been gone, like there was some big mystery out there coming for me. but the longer i sit here and wait for it the more i realize that it’s never going to come. that it was up to me to go and dispel the myth of it myself. but having realized that,...
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“pat, couldn’t sleep again last night. it’s been like that lately, don’t know why really. haven’t really been bothered by it for a while, so it’s back to the ceiling watch and the numbers and the remembrances of faces that i’ve lost. why do i do that do you suppose? just like i think of you.”
October 2011
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September 2011
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August 2011
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July 2011
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Outside, fat snowflakes are falling on slate roofs and granite walls. Like Solzhenitsyn laboring in Vermont, I shall beaver away in exile, far from the city that knitted my bones. Like Solzhenitsyn, I shall return, one bright dusk. - David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
June 2011
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You wonder how these things begin. Well, this begins with a glen. It begins with a season which, for want of a better word we may as well call - September. It begins in a forest where the woodchucks woo, and the leaves wax green, and vines intertwine like lovers; try to see it. Not with your eyes, for they are wise, but see it with your ears: the cool green breathing of the leaves. And hear it...
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April 2011
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Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last...
March 2011
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February 2011
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Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made...
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Life is like a node which is born within the flow of information. As a species of life that carries DNA as its memory system, man gains his individuality from the memories he carries. While memories may as well be the same as fantasy, it is by these memories that mankind exists. When computers made it possible to externalize memory, you should have considered all the implications that held.
-...
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Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds, and contrary tides…I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life’s voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn’t I give now for a never-changing map...
January 2011
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ELROND: Ónen i-Estel Edain. ARAGORN: Ú-chebin estel anim. “I give hope to Men.” “I keep none for myself.”
November 2010
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October 2010
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