بچه‌ها بیدگل یه کتابی داره به نام «شب سپیده می‌زند، باری دیگر» توش پر از فیلم و عکس‌های فیلم و جستارهای مربوطه. خدا شاهده می‌خواستم درس بخونم پریروز گفتم فقط یه نگاهی بندازم. دو ساعت پاش بودم. خیلی قشنگه. اگر به سینما علاقه دارید بخونیدش. (لازم به ذکر نیست که من از کتابخونه گرفتم.)
من عاشق نوشتن توی کتاب‌هام. منظورم حاشیه‌نویسی نیست. منظورم «دفتر یا جورنالم رو جا گذاشتم به جاش توی صفحات سفید کتابی که در حال حاضر می‌خونم می‌نویسم»ئه.
نه شیوه زندگی کردنم دست خودم است نه شکل مردنم. حالا که بزرگ شده‌ام، دیگر خیلی برایم مهم نیست زندگی‌ام چطور می‌گذرد. آدم به همه چیز عادت می‌کند. اما مردن غم‌انگیزتر است، چون آدم نمی‌خواهد بمیرد و وقتی که بمیرد دیگر مرده. باید حداقل بتوانیم شکل مردنمان را انتخاب کنیم. وقتی تحمل زندگی برایم سخت می‌شود، به خودم می‌گویم که امروز و فردا اوضاع بهتر می‌شود. می‌دانم حرفم بی‌معنی است، ولی باز بگویی‌نگویی باورش می‌کنم. اما مرگ که به سراغمان بیاید، می‌دانیم که این دیگر همیشگی است.
– روز رهایی، اینس کانیاتی، ترجمه فرزاد مرادی
– روز رهایی، اینس کانیاتی، ترجمه فرزاد مرادی
Forwarded from Soldier's Things
در کلاس‌های ادبیات است که می‌فهمید چه‌قدر عاشق هستید.
Perfect Day
Lou Reed
You make me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else,
someone good.
I thought I was someone else,
someone good.
Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman
I will be dying and so will you, and so will everyone here. That's what I want to explore. We're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't.
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman
What was once before you - an exciting, mysterious future - is now behind you. Lived; understood; disappointing. You realize you are not special. You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone's experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone's everyone. So you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive. You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours; all her loneliness; the gray, straw-like hair; her red raw hands. It's yours. It is time for you to understand this. As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die; as they move on; as you shed them; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world forgets you; as you recognize your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time. Now you are here, at 7:43. Now you are here, at 7:44. Now you are... Gone.
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman
– Synecdoche, New York 2008, Charlie Kaufman