“You guys. I’m in the dictionary. I’M IN THE DICTIONARY. I am using all the restraint I have not to type every curse word I’ve ever learned and then make a flakreggin few up because I cannot believe I AM IN THE DICTIONARY.”—
He wrote this book, Murakami - What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. A copy of it lived with me until I momentarily relaxed my rule about not lending books. Now it lives in Los Feliz with this guy you could say I dated, but if you did, you’d be using a generous interpretation of that word.
The guy and I are on good terms because I don’t throw people away, even though sometimes that causes physical pain. Carver knows this, that this is what we talk about when we talk about love.
He doesn’t run anymore, the guy. Something about his knees. He also doesn’t believe in love. Something about his divorce. If the book had a choice, I suspect it would rather move back in with me.
“I feel like punching everything in the face, but in the good way! Not people, but concepts. I want to punch racism in the face!”—Sometimes I get so excited after a good practice that I stop making sense. (via nerdysouth)
“Each book is a new book. I’ve never written it before and I have to teach myself how to write it as I go along. The fact that I’ve written books in the past seems to play no part in it. I always feel like a beginner and I’m continually running into the same difficulties, the same blocks, the same despairs. You make so many mistakes as a writer, cross out so many bad sentences and ideas, discard so many worthless pages, that finally what you learn is how stupid you are. It’s a humbling occupation.”—Paul Auster, The Paris Review interview, 2003 (via thisispartofthewhole)