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۱. وِروِروِروِروِر... ۲. باشد که حقیقتِ هر کتاب در من زنده شود، باشد که حقیقت زنده شود. (اوپانیشادها، کتابهای حکمت)
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261
There's a not-so-thin line between being "responsible" and being "responsive." One can excel at the latter and fail spectacularly at the former. Am I "The One"? 😐
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The suspicion that everything was relative. That the “real” and “authentic” might not be simply doomed but fictive to begin with. That his feeling of righteousness, of uniquely championing the real, was just a feeling. These were the suspicions that had lain in ambush in all those motel rooms. These were the deep terrors beneath the flimsy beds.
And if the world refused to square with his version of reality then it was necessarily an uncaring world, a sour and sickening world, a penal colony, and he was doomed to be violently lonely in it.
He bowed his head at the thought of how much strength a man would need to survive an entire life so lonely.
✏️ The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
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261
Waiting is a big part of a slave’s life, waiting and waiting to wait some more. Waiting for demands. Waiting for food. Waiting for the ends of days. Waiting for the just and deserved Christian reward at the end of it all.
✏️ James (A Novel), Percival Everett
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261
(Schopenhauer: Woman pays the debt of life not by what she does, but by what she suffers; by the pains of childbearing and care for the child, and by submission to her husband, to whom she should be a patient and cheering companion.)
✏️ The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
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261
(Schopenhauer: If you want a safe compass to guide you through life . . . you cannot do better than accustom yourself to regard this world as a penitentiary, a sort of penal colony.)
✏️ The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
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261
You encountered a misery near the end of the day and it took a while to gauge its full extent. Some miseries had sharp curvature and could be negotiated readily. Others had almost no curvature and you knew you’d be spending hours turning the corner. Great whopping-big planet-sized miseries.
✏️ The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
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261
آدمها دوست دارند این جنگ زودتر (و بهنحوی که پسندِ همهست) تموم بشه تا بتونند برگردن به زندگی و پلنهاشون.
فکر که میکنم میبینم من مطلقاً چیزی ندارم که بهش برگردم.
اما امّیدوارم ختم بهخیر شه—هم آدمها به چیزی که دلشون میخواد برگردن و زندگی دوباره پا بگیره، هم من سرِ فرصت و با حوصله خودم رو گموگور کنم.
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261
آن شب
صدای گریه و فریاد میآمد
آن شب تو تنها مانده بودی
باد میآمد...
آن شب صدایی
شیشهها را مضطرب میکرد
بارانِ تندی در امیرآباد میآمد...
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261
مثلِ دو تا اعدامیِ تنها
تا لحظهی آخر دعا کردیم
ما لای زخمِ هم فرو رفتیم
ما توی خونِ هم شنا کردیم
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261
✏️ بدون نام - مرتضا نیکنهاد
✏️ مجموعۀ ماهی بزرگ (۱۳۹۹)
در يكى از شبهاى ميانى دههى هفتاد مادرم خوابى ديد كه سرآغاز ِفصلى دشوار از زندگىمان بود، او دچار بيمارى مبهمى شد كه ريشهاش بر اساس آنچه پزشكان مىگفتند ضايعات روحىِ باقىمانده از وقايع گذشته بود. بيش از يك دهه از آن شب گذشت تا مادر پرده از خوابى برداشت كه تا پيش از آن پنهانش كرده بود، او از جاندارِ مجهولالهويه و رُعبآورى سخن مىگفت كه در خوابش بهسرعت بزرگ شده، بهگونهاى كه او در وضعيتى برزخگونه تلاش مىكند از خواب برخيزد. مادر در اين سالها فقط يكبار راضى شده درباره ى آن شب حرف بزند و هربار در مقابل پرسش هاى احتمالى از روايت آن شب پرهيز مىكند. مجموعۀ ماهى بزرگ برداشتی ذهنى ست از بيست سال زندگى و مشاهدات من از روزمرهى زنى كه با يك هيولاى رامشده و زخمى زندگى مىكند.🤩
261
All they know is hate, hate 'til they OD And all they do is kill, they don't want us to breathe World full of snakes so you gotta move with ease War made of order, don't believe in make-believe Haters in my face, goddamn, let me breathe All they know is hate, hate 'til they OD And all they do is kill, they don't want us to breathe I want my breath back Running through checkpoints of all crimes, we call for a boycott No more lies sold cheap Our cries seem weak They don't believe They don't believe They don't believe They don't believe We didn't demand more from a democracy of monsters They told you to turn down that music or they'll shoot you They told you not to walk, not to run in their neighborhoods They'll shoot you, execute you Young, old, friend or foe We so obedient At Walmart buying guns just to believe again Just to believe again Just to believe again Just to believe again In a lie that was never true Does America love you? Does Germany love you? Does Australia love you? Does England love you? Did they love you when they censored your voice? Did they love you when you were getting terrorized and lynched? Did they love you when they took centuries Took centuries to apologize for enslavement? Are we complacent? These times hate and restrain 'em Congress done split they head on pavements And are refusing medical treatment Like Sly Stone falling from the sky This game been broken backs and black eyes That's why we don't believe That's why we don't believe We don't believe We don't believe We don't believe Can't see a future Educated men on the balcony, can't see the shooter Bankruptin' an education system, can't find the looters I blame the house, soulless body of representatives Can't feel the flames Can't feel ghouls and demons eating at they flesh, they brains So we don't rest Frankenstein, Austria Just another corpse the devil blessed (Another death invested) High Fidelity, H&R Block Another cop knockin' on our door Asking can we please, can we please stop existing Found my face missing I scream, "I'm right here" I scream, "I'm right here, I'm right here" But they don't believe me They don't believe me They don't see me Ghost currency already spent Bomb, bombing, bombing, imminent Cancel
261
سراغ جدول رفت. هفتحرفی، شهری در استان باسک.
«بیلبائو؛ همیشه همین کلمه را میگذارند. چرا کلمات هوشمندانهتری که با ما ارتباطی داشته باشد انتخاب نمیکنند؟ مثلاً، نُهحرفی، اردوگاه کار اجباریای که اگر شب از آنجا بیرون ببرندت، هرگز دوباره برنمیگردی. پوچونکاوی. هشتحرفی، چه حالی پیدا میکنی وقتی پدر و مادرت در زندان به ملاقاتت بیایند و به تو بگویند جسد برادرت، خوان، را سوراخسوراخشده با گلوله در یک زبالهدانی پیدا کردهاند؟ ویرانشده. ششحرفی، چه احساسی داری وقتی گودالی در زمین میکنی و بعد سه تا اسکلت میبینی که دستانشان را از پشت بستهاند و یکی از آنها کفش برادرت، آلبرتو، پایش است؟ خشمگین. گُه بگیرد. باز دارم با خودم حرف میزنم.»
✏️سایۀ آنچه بودیم، لوئیس سِپولوِدا
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261
بهانۀ گریۀ امروزم این آلبوم گابریل فوره بود. سبُک نشدم بعدش. و کاش هرگز سبُک نشم. کاش نخندم تا ابد. ببندم چاکِ خر رو. به احترامِ طاها، به احترام کیان...
