I love words. Phrases. Sentences of the incomplete and run-on variety. I like the way words lean against each other. How they prop each other up. To form stories.
I love stories (tell me a story).
I want to invent a story-telling machine. It would sit by your bed and tell you stories. Bedtime ones.
It would be like a reverse alarm clock. You would set it before you went to bed. And it would to tell you a 5, 15 or 30 minute story, piping words into the air like bubbles.
Stringing them together like garland.
Decorating your mind.
Filling your heart.
Starting you off down the path to a dream...
They'd be told by someone with a soothing voice, lovelily*. Slowly unfolding. Rounding out into something with a beginning, a middle and an end.
There would be an option. You could choose whether to listen to the entire story now. Or to wait to hear the end. Until morning.
(I would wait.)
It would be something to look forward to.
*like Christmas.*
Bedtime stories for all, I say.
Why should something meant to inspire.
To evoke wonder.
And explain humanity - with color and whimsy and lulling - be just for children?
I too need color.
and whimsy.
and lulling.
But for now, this invention sits on my imaginary assembly line. Dustily.
(mmm, adverbs).
Until it's ready, I'll share some of my favorite stories.
- Listen to this one about babysitting (not really - it's about so much more).
- Or read three by my favorite storyteller, David Sedaris. Read them and only then (only then) can you listen to this.
- Hearing him read his stories is one of my all-time favorite things to do. For anyone desperate for Christmas, listen to this, in three parts (1, 2, 3).
- And if you're up for something longer... a favorite book of short stories.
- Or, of course - Flannery.
It's called The Book Thief.
It's about a little girl who loves books. And about a lot of other stuff too. Death mainly**.
The author's Australian. And I'm thoroughly enjoying his words. His phrases.
You can too. No context required - just hold these gems in your head - leave the rest to your illustrative mind.
"first up is something white. of the blinding kind."
"a small soul was in my arms. i stood a little to the right."
"snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. only, they would have scorched your lips. they would have cooked your mouth."
"his sentences glowed in the light."
"...the boy's spirit was soft and cold, like ice cream. he started melting in my arms."
"somewhere in the snow, she could see her broken heart in two pieces. each half was glowing, and beating under all that white."
"there was the chaos of goodbye."
"the day was grey, the colour of europe."
"hans had her by one hand. her small suitcase had her by the other."
"...and one was delivered by a soft, yellow-dressed afternoon."
"there were boarding houses crammed with people, rooms filled with questions."
"...a face decorated with constant fury."
"leisel, naturally, was bathed in anxiety."
"...leisel observed the strangeness in her foster father's eyes. they were made of kindness, and silver. like soft silver, melting."
"she would wake up swimming in her bed, screaming, and drowning in the flood of sheets."
"a definition not found in the dictionary
not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children."
"he was not the junior misogynistic type of boy at all."
"if i beat you, i get to kiss you." he crouched down and began rolling up his trousers.
liesel was alarmed, to put it mildly.
"what do you want to kiss me for? i'm filthy."
"so am i."
"...the gun clipped a hole in the night."
"the yellow light was alive with dust."
"this might be harder than i thought (he thought).
she caught him thinking it, just for a moment."
"soon, they were on himmel street, carrying the words, the music, the washing."
"a voice practically appeared on the other side of the room. attached to it was a lemon-haired boy whose bony knees knocked under the desk in his pants."
"...he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. there was no request for a kiss. nothing like that. you can love rudy for that, if you like."
"there was the smell of pea soup, something burning and confrontation."
"the orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. burning words were torn from their sentences."
"she made her way back to the window and passed a whisper through a gap. the whisper's name was rudy."
"so am i."
"...the gun clipped a hole in the night."
"the yellow light was alive with dust."
"this might be harder than i thought (he thought).
she caught him thinking it, just for a moment."
"soon, they were on himmel street, carrying the words, the music, the washing."
"a voice practically appeared on the other side of the room. attached to it was a lemon-haired boy whose bony knees knocked under the desk in his pants."
"...he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. there was no request for a kiss. nothing like that. you can love rudy for that, if you like."
"there was the smell of pea soup, something burning and confrontation."
"the orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. burning words were torn from their sentences."
"she made her way back to the window and passed a whisper through a gap. the whisper's name was rudy."
"my heart is so tired."
"his hand held nothing but empty air..."
"words like compulsory and duty were beaten into the page."
"there were stars...they burned my eyes."
"bold and bright...it would then be brought to an end, for brightness had shown suffering the way."
"an awkwardness treated itself to the room..."
"for now he could only sit on his suitcase couch, hands under his chin, his elbows burning his thighs."
"she was a girl.
in nazi germany.
how fitting that she was discovering the power of words."
"he was teenage tall..."
"it was the next word, however, that frightened. he called it out as if he'd already been attacked with it. his mouth ripped open. the word flew out, the word was axe."
"god, there was such joy and fear there, such brilliant commotion."
"he dropped everything out of him and started pleading with them."
"he'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips."
"the town that afternoon was covered in a yellow mist, which stroked the rooftops as if they were pets, and filled up the streets like a bath."
"for a long time, she sat on the steps and watched molching. it was neither warm nor cool and the town was clear and still. molching was in a jar."
"the words were on their way, and when they arrived liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain."
"no one had ever given her music before."
"they just held hands and listened to their feet..."
Haven't you ever listened to your feet? "an awkwardness treated itself to the room..."
"for now he could only sit on his suitcase couch, hands under his chin, his elbows burning his thighs."
"she was a girl.
in nazi germany.
how fitting that she was discovering the power of words."
"he was teenage tall..."
"it was the next word, however, that frightened. he called it out as if he'd already been attacked with it. his mouth ripped open. the word flew out, the word was axe."
"god, there was such joy and fear there, such brilliant commotion."
"he dropped everything out of him and started pleading with them."
"he'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips."
"the town that afternoon was covered in a yellow mist, which stroked the rooftops as if they were pets, and filled up the streets like a bath."
"for a long time, she sat on the steps and watched molching. it was neither warm nor cool and the town was clear and still. molching was in a jar."
"the words were on their way, and when they arrived liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain."
"no one had ever given her music before."
"they just held hands and listened to their feet..."
* my new favorite word, lovelily. say it. lovelily.
** even books about death can be beautiful.
1 comment:
I like reading your strung together oddly punctuated trails of words. You have a wonderful mind.
Post a Comment