And you people just live on rails
Igår cyklade hem från en popklubb i västra delarna av staden, genomblöt av regnet och med ett vobblande framhjul efter en krock (som involverade en spelare i innebandylaget otroligt nog). Kom hem och kollade på halva Annie Hall. Idag har jag skrivit klart en novell som heter Until Death Comes, den blev fin. Här kommer ett utdrag från en annan jag håller på med som just nu heter And You people just live on rails
Your cell phone started to vibrate in your left pocket, a reminder of the outside world. You picked it up
‘Hey man, how’s my boy doing?’, and energetic voice on the other side of the line said.
‘Hey, good, I’m good,’ you respond distantly as you take a careful step into the real world when you realized that it’s your interior decorator; a narcissistic gym rat with free flowing brown hair and a fetish for minimalistic steel furniture designed in Denmark. When he fucks his blond assistant; a UCLA-student in love with the Parisian subway, Wes Anderson movie soundtracks and black Starbuck coffee, he fantasise about a 1964 limited edition arm chair from a carpenter in the Danish city of Helsingör. These were things he freely shared during their scattered phone calls, as if his detachment from the physical act of sex was a statement of post modern grandeur. Still, for all his obtrusiveness and his somewhat deranged interest in sharing sexual experiences, you liked him because he managed to be so removed from everyday expectations and of course, furnished your apartments so that every woman that entered never wanted to leave.
Your cell phone started to vibrate in your left pocket, a reminder of the outside world. You picked it up
‘Hey man, how’s my boy doing?’, and energetic voice on the other side of the line said.
‘Hey, good, I’m good,’ you respond distantly as you take a careful step into the real world when you realized that it’s your interior decorator; a narcissistic gym rat with free flowing brown hair and a fetish for minimalistic steel furniture designed in Denmark. When he fucks his blond assistant; a UCLA-student in love with the Parisian subway, Wes Anderson movie soundtracks and black Starbuck coffee, he fantasise about a 1964 limited edition arm chair from a carpenter in the Danish city of Helsingör. These were things he freely shared during their scattered phone calls, as if his detachment from the physical act of sex was a statement of post modern grandeur. Still, for all his obtrusiveness and his somewhat deranged interest in sharing sexual experiences, you liked him because he managed to be so removed from everyday expectations and of course, furnished your apartments so that every woman that entered never wanted to leave.
Etiketter: And You People Just Live On Rails, Annnie Hall, Until Death Comes
posted by Patrik Edvardsson at 4:30 em
2 Comments:
"furnished your apartments so that every woman that entered never wanted to leave."
och det ska va en bra sak?
stilen känns lite Palahniuk, det är menat som en komplimang. läste förresten Choke efter att jag såg att du önskade den i julklapp, och jag gillade den. han har fantasi den där författaren.
förresten borde du läsa McCarthy's The Road om du inte redan gjort det. du gillar ju Hemingway och The Road påminner en del om hans mer korthuggna verk, typ Old man and the sea, fast mörkare.
Jag har inte läst Choke än, var lite dåligt med böcker bland julklapparna faktiskt, men ska försöka få tag på den och The Road, trots att en mörk old man and the sea kanske inte riktigt är vad jag behöver nu. Jag läste precis klart ett år av magiskt tänkande av Joan Didion, den var väldigt fin. Gillar böcker med referenser till akademiska artiklar.
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