The Cold Tap Sings

the p-word

Category: Quotes

LOST BOYS SLEEP FOREVER


All the feels for this Derek Jarman poem stapled to page one of my second-hand copy of Modern Nature.

‘A STRANGE BEING’: PROUST’S OBIT

Marcel_Proust_13752.jpg

PARIS, SUNDAY.

Marcel Proust, foremost of “young novelists” of France, died yesterday. He was fifty years old and had been in poor health from childhood. It is probable that he was as well known abroad, especially in Holland and England, where Marcel Proust Societies have recently been formed, as in Paris, where his work was enjoyed by a select minority. His style was difficult and obscure, and his intricate, exquisitely delicate meditations and analysis of emotions could never have appealed to the mass of readers. Outwardly and in his habits he was a strange being. Very pale, with burning black eyes, frail and short in stature, he lived like a hermit in his home, which was open to a few privileged friends, amongst precious furniture. Yet by fits and starts he loved to re-enter the fashionable “night-life” of Paris. His apartment was lined throughout with cork in an ineffectual attempt to keep out the uproar of the noisiest city in the world. Most of his best-known work was done after he reached the age of forty-five years. Of all idols and masters of present-day literature in France he is most likely to have won a place which time will not take away.

The Guardian obituary for Marcel Proust, published on 20 November 1922.

NERUDA’S SEASHELLS

nerudas-seashells

A selection of Pablo Neruda’s seashells, lovingly indexed here.

‘Actually the best things I collected in my life were my shells.’

Pablo Neruda, I Confess I Have Lived

STRUCKTHROUGH

flauberts-travel-journal-walking-in-brittany-pic-by-stephane-briolant

A spread from a travel journal belonging to Gustave Flaubert, on sale in Paris last month.

‘Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.’

Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

DIANE

diane

Diane

the waterfall in the Twin Peaks title sequence
cascades through my dreams I see your face
& feel like I am falling
upwards

*

picture the traffic lights
‘there at midnight
changing for nobody’
wonder whether quoting Mort
is quoting Mort quoting Lynch
whether any words / thoughts
/ lines / poems are original
whether love is unoriginal
too

*

no

*

I love you
because you some typefaces
more than you love me
while I love you less
than I love some rock formations
and that is why you love me
example: Gill Sans
example: Durdle Door

*

previously on Twin Peaks I was falling
upwards
because you make me feel like a waterfall
so in the morning I enjoy damn fine coffee
and picture midnight on a moonless night
when the traffic lights change
only for you & I
baby
only for us