Coin locker babies – Ryu Murakami

Surrealist apocalyptic goodness – that’ how I can describe in 3 words Ryu Murakamy’s Coin locker babies.

It’s a fucked up book (in a good way) that starts like this:

“The woman pushed on the baby’s stomach and sucked its penis into her mouth; it was thinner than the American menthols she smoked and a bit slimy, like raw fish.”

So, if you can handle the graphic first page, you can probably manage the rest also.

Coin locker babies is a dark and desperate story of two brothers. Well, almost two brothers.  Both Hashi and Kiku, abandoned by their mothers in bus station coin lockers as infants, are discovered and sent to the same orphanage, where they become inseparable. Adopted by the same couple, they grow up together but along the way, one grows up to become a decadent pop star and the other, a disciplined pole vaulter.

Through their adventures the author has a way of building up the action and then suddenly drop a bomb on you, something terribly grotesque or horrible happens and you are left mouth open like “oh my god …”

In this sick and perverted story you love Kiku because he’s smart in a logical kind of way and you get captured by Hashi, the androgynous bisexual rock star always wondering if they are going to destroy or save the world.

Thing is, at some point, you realize there could be no happy ending to this story, which is fine, because by the time you get to the end of this book it’s hard to even want a happy ending for the protagonists.

A very fine read for the days when my psyche takes a break and the ideas of matricide, self-mutilation, hard-core sex and mass murder seem to make sense.

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“Barbatii sunt reptile si femeile sunt fructe.  O femeie tanara dezbracata e tare ca un fruct proaspat, o apesi si simti ca are inca o legatura cu ceva indepartat, ca un fruct cu pomul din care a fost cules.”

Ryu Murakami – Copii de aruncat

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belonging

I feel like a late teenager lately and I kinda have the horrible feeling that I’m in the wrong place, with the wrong people and I only find the wrong words for everything.

“I must belong somewhere”, I keep repeating to myself to get through all these bizarre events.

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alive-ness

I love a good funeral. Yes, I said I love it.

At a funeral, more than at a wedding, you’re dealing with people who are actually paying attention.

I remember being at my first funeral some years ago when I was still a child: the preacher singed so beautifully accompanied by an old clerk, people were quiet and holding hands, the candles were gleaming afar off in the slight gloomy church some crackling like firewood sometimes and it seemed like everything had an aura. I was witnessing that passing ritual and I felt like I was dreaming, it wasn’t pain or grief coming from all of those people but warmth, kindness and compassion.

And today I still think funerals are a beautiful thing.

Besides paying tribute to someone dear you get the chance to appreciate more everything that moves and breaths, you become more aware of whom you really are.

And writing about all this it makes me wonder once again: to be cremated or buried?

One thing is for sure though: I want a song to be played at my funeral. Question is which one?

Prodigy: Firestarter – as my coffin disappears into the ground

Metallica: Nothing else matters – couldn’t be much more from the heart

HIM: Don’t feel the reaper – ‘cause I always thought it would have been nice to die in the late 1800.

Chris Rea: Looking for the summer – if it happens on a winter day

Louis Armstrong: What a wonderful world – best played when being covered up

Bon Jovi: Have a nice day – will set a nice mood like alive-ness

I love a good funeral.

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my mind = randomness

Does this ever happen to you?

Like, I’ll sit in front of my computer doing important stuff and then all of a sudden I’ll just wonder “Hmm … why Tim Burton is always featuring Johnny Depp in his movies? I have to look into this right now. I’m so sorry important work; something more pressing has come up”.

And then what happens is I’ll be researching one thing and I’ll see something else I want to look into. And from Johnny Depp I get to Danny Elfam that does all the music for Burton’s movies. “Uhm, interesting. Maybe Burton keeps them both locked in his attic. Let’s see how Elfam really sounds like.” And I’ll spend minutes and even hours digging into his songs knowing everything is useless.

I mean, I have never heard of a story like, a mademoiselle gets stopped in a dark alley by a dude with a knife, “I’m gonna rape you tonight … unless you can sing me The Oogie Boogie song from Nightmare before Christmas.” “Of course, “Well well well, what have we here? Sandy Claws, huh? Ooh, I’m really scared! So you’re the one everybody’s talkin’ about, ah-hah-hah-haaa!”

“Dammit, no …! I have to stop putting Danny Elfam trivia into my raping, it’s ruining it”.

 This is so me!

And now back to the serious and important stuff!

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swing

You’re in the car with the guy you like and he talks and you smile. He’s fun and entertaining and then that awkward pause comes and you’re still thinking if you should go on with the conversation or say what’s on your mind for some time now. And at the same time you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like you robbed a liquor store or pushed a granny down the stairs if you’re going to say it.

You’re in the car with the guy you like and you’re trying not to tell him what you’re thinking when he reaches over and he touches you. He saved the moment but didn’t saved you from your own thoughts.

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Working on my dreams

I may be 25 and I may still not know what to do when I grow up but I do know that someday I will be living in a house filled with travel souvenirs and books.

And the walls that aren’t covered in bookshelves will be covered with paintings, collages and postcards.

I will have a swing in the backyard under a linden tree facing a stew and I will have breakfast every morning on my porch smelling the grass.

And when I’ll be leaving the house I will be going to a job I love so I can return to someone I love.

This is what I’m working on.

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Day 25 – loosen’up

I have never thought there will be someone taking care of me.

I always took care of others and for myself  I have never relied on someone else. By now I realized it’s so tiresome  to be the only one carrying sweets in my purse, making good jokes or smiling when I’m feeling down.

As surprisingly as it may seem it actually feels nice to feel vulnerable when there’s someone watching over you.

These days little things like receiving undercover biscuits at my desk at work or a medicine that sparkles in my hot chocolate cup are bringing me happiness. I have to be willing to see and accept them.

P.S. On day 24  I got my undercover biscuits  and I also got tea in the official mail from a dear friend :>

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Date me

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

by Rosemary Urquico

Oh lord!

This post is literally telling people to date someone like me.

’cause you know “we need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them.” 

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hidden

Who would I be if I were to do everything I have in mind?

This time I’m  thankful I don’t have a perfect body, otherwise …

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connecting the dots – past 8 days

I stopped counting each single day of my project but here you have the past 8 days :

Outdoor breakfast, lunch and dinner for 3 days. Nothing invigorates a day like the feeling of sunlight or moonlight on your face

Laughing out loud from all my heart. Gosh, it’s been so long!

Watching the moon rising and gazing at the planes flying at night. Time to get my feet on the ground again

Embraces that last just a little longer than usual. Don’t wait for one— do one

The moment when you wake up in the middle of the night and see the foxes standing by your fire. Nature’s majesty

The feeling of dewdrops when walking barefoot in the morning. Everything smells clean, fresh and green

Feeling someone take your hands in theirs. There’s something blissfully intimate and meaningful about holding hands

A bath like a spa after 3 days in the wild. Regain the wonder-woman powers

A long, super long conversation like I used to have in high school with my best friend – It feels so good to open up sometimes.

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