"Happy Story" by Stanley Donwood
SleightOfHand562
Posts: 477
I am unfortunately diagnosed as having a terminal disease, and that my demise is imminent. This information upsets me greatly, and my age is nowhere near sufficient to have prepared me for such news. With many tears I sell my possessions and invest my capital in a parachute jump for myself. Upon leaving the aeroplane, I am faced with my final decision.
I opt not to pull the ripcord, and continue my descent with increasing rapidity and a slightly worried smile. I ponder on my life, such as it has been, and conclude that although the parts were varied and often tinged with sadness, the whole has a dimly beautiful shape.
I opt not to pull the ripcord, and continue my descent with increasing rapidity and a slightly worried smile. I ponder on my life, such as it has been, and conclude that although the parts were varied and often tinged with sadness, the whole has a dimly beautiful shape.
There have been shows where maybe the whole first half of the show my eyes have been closed. and then you'll look out in the crowd and there'll be somebody totally lost in their head, in exactly the same place you're in. That, to me, is the essence of music
~Jeff Ament
~Jeff Ament
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I am disturbed to discover that my colleagues have invented a new game which seems to involve attempting to kill me in every juvenile way that presents itself to them. They delight in surprising me with shoves into the paths of oncoming double-decker buses, constructing ridiculous rope-and-pulley devices with the aim of dropping heavy furniture on my head, placing tripwires at the tops of escalators, and other such inanities.
They persist for some weeks, during which I become increasingly adept at avoiding sudden death by blackly humourous means. I feel that my senses are sharpened day by day, that my sight is keener, my reflexes quicker. Soon I can detect by the smell of linseed oil alone the presence of a cricket-bat wielding acquaintance in the bathroom. Everything is enhanced. Colours are richer, noises are louder. I awaken to the pattern of life, the weight of deeds.
Eventually my heightened awareness evolves into a vividly focused paranoia. I can only retreat; I move surreptitiously to a small seaside resort on the east coast and wait, slowly, for a death of my own choosing.
~Jeff Ament
http://www.slowlydownward.com
~Jeff Ament
I'm gonna check this guy out! Thanks!
I never found out who he was or how to contact him, and that board is now defunct, so I can only credit him by his handle and share.
He had a collection of little quips he called "A Life". I present to you two that I found particularly interesting or relevant to my life.
~~~
They were driving in her car. The moon was full and the light bounced off the hood of the car and sprinted into their eyes. The radio was on loud. A song neither of them liked. But She thought He liked it and He thought She liked it so they didn't change the station. She reached over and turned the music down so He could hear her.
"You know what I was just thinking? Wouldn't it be weird if I just veered off the road into a tree? I mean, I'm not going to do it, but if I did, wouldn't that be wicked weird?"
He looked at her for a moment. "Yeah. That would suck."
She looked at the road in front of her with an unreadable look on her face. "Yeah. That would be weird."
~~~
They sit in his kitchen. One of them has on jeans and the other had on cords. Jeans looks at Cords and laughs. "Look at how dry the soil is in your cactus plant. You should water it."
"It's supposed to be dry."
"Yeah but not this dry. Come look at it."
Cords walks over to the cactus plant. It is about a foot tall, sitting up on the windowsill. He looks down into the pot. "Ha. It is pretty dry," he says. "Someone should water it."
He goes and sits back down. Jeans laughs a little. "Why don't you water it now?"
Cords shrugs. "I just don't feel like it. And plus, I've never seen a dead cactus before."
wow. those were great!
~Jeff Ament
"You know what I was just thinking? Wouldn't it be weird if I just veered off the road into a tree? I mean, I'm not going to do it, but if I did, wouldn't that be wicked weird?"
He looked at her for a moment. "Yeah. That would suck."
She looked at the road in front of her with an unreadable look on her face. "Yeah. That would be weird."
~~~
Reminds me of "oh, oh, the steering wheel is locked".
Yah... I read those for the first time over 4 years ago. Kept them since. Some of the coolest stuff I've ever read in their simplicity and seeming irrelevance.
Just thought I'd share. Wish I could give credit where credit is due.
BIG BIRD
Whilst on a walking holiday in remote regions, I chance upon a secluded valley, away from the popular walking routes. Some distance along the valley I come across a scene so breathtakingly beautiful that I drop to my knees in wonder. There is something about the serried ranks of deciduous and coniferous trees standing tall on the opposite bank of the river that sets my heart ablaze. The colours of the foliage are poetic, whilst the arrangement of species seems divinely inspired. Clouds swoop and whirl above the topmost branches, and the river sparkles through an uncertain reflection below.
Suddenly, the sky darkens, and along the river advances a flotilla of huge birds with menacing eyes. The size of the birds staggers me; one is as tall as a bus, and the others not much smaller. Their plumage is a shimmering blue, but their eyes are full of hate and looming disaster. With a horrible sinking feeling, I realise that the birds have noticed me. One of them clambers up the nearside bank, and waddles towards me. I take to my heels, and scramble along the path. Gaining speed, I run at full tilt.
Then I see people in front of me, running towards me. First one passes, then another, then another. They are wide-eyed with terror, and keep taking quick, fearful looks behind them. There must, I realise, be something unutterably horrible in front of me, but my fear of the big birds compels me to carry on. More people run past me, all with the same frightened expression. They are running towards the birds, away from something unknown. I am running from the birds, towards something unknown. Not for the first time in my life, I curse my bad luck.
~Jeff Ament
This guy has workings in his brain like nothing I've seen before. Wish I had similar workings.
crazy, isn't it?! this one had me completely wide eyed. it's called "Dracula" :
It is summer, and I am persuaded to take a continental holiday by two enthusiastic acquaintances. Being a creature of habit, I am accustomed to vacations in the seaside resorts near to my home, but the proposition is put in such a way that I find it hard to make excuses.
We depart, and travel by train to Romania, where, after a series of misadventures, we are all captured by Count Dracula, Prince of Darkness. We are taken in a foul-smelling horse-drawn carriage to his castle, which towers blasphemously above the forests, fingering the torn sky with its crumbling turrets. We are, naturally, rent with terror. It is clear that the Count intends to drink our blood, turning us into undead monsters of the night in the process.
We are imprisoned in once luxurious apartments, overlooking Dracula's estate. It is evident that the twentieth century has not treated our host well. Ominously, he tells us in heavily-accented English that he has been forced to open up large tracts of his estate as a theme park, with log flumes, bowling alleys, rollercoasters, and burger bars, all of which are frequented by Western tourists who know nothing of the old ways.
Our sympathy is tempered by the sure knowledge that the Count intends to suck out our souls with his pointy teeth. We secretly devise a daring plan to flee. We encourage the Count to show us round the theme park, and, as we come to the bowling alley, hurl ourselves down the planks into the skittley darkness. We scramble through wires, pipes, and other obstructions until we find ourselves in an area devoted to crazy golf, where we mingle with the tourists. It is with some relief that we exit through the turnstiles. It is easy from thence to find a hire car, and complete our courageous escape.
Back home in Eastbourne, I wonder if we did the right thing. It infuriates me that Dracula may have needed my soul more than I do.
and here's the kicker. I give you,
"INNEFECTUAL. THGTHSNMYHDCCSNLLY. STNLYDNWD"
distant towers in woodland glimpsed from afar but never there when you try to get to them
shaking low camera angles running very fast
watching eating close up so you can see strings of saliva
tall hedges too carefully trimmed
animals talking only when your back is turned
being watched by something in the dark
people falling over for no reason that i can see
cameras having a life of their own
face like a humanised wolf there behind the window when you pull the curtains at night when youre alone
blood dripping from trees
forgetting why youre there when you get somewhere
music that sounds like it should be played in cathedrals where people are tortured in front of an audience
politicians meeting in secret to eat human flesh and laugh
shaking so much your head comes loose and you see everything like its been badly printed
lots of people dancing to no music but theyre all dancing the same
woods where no birds sing
dolls having teeth and moving around at night
night falling very very quickly
how to cope if i survive a nuclear war
waking up in a dream of another town
eating and then looking down and realising i have been eating maggots and worms
forgetting how to understand speech
cars being personalities that alter drivers like in a stephen king story
baskets full of heads of animals and people between the normal baskets at a market
people you know casually revealing that they are demonic entities
trees looking like theyve been placed for some evil mathematical game
geographical landmarks moving around from day to day
sadness and nostalgia for an idealised and nonexistent past
being strangled by sentient trees whilst walking alone in the woods
my social interaction being an elaborate joke for the amusement of unknown others
winning something then getting horribly injured on the way to collect the prize
drowning in grain after a lorry tips over or by falling in a silo
~Jeff Ament
yeah, that hit me pretty hard. i'm not sure what it is about this guy's writing, but there's a certain ambivalence towards life in general that shines through in ways that make it seem like he completely understands it.
~Jeff Ament
NEARLY GOT
One night I am alone in my house, compliling lists of friends from the past. It grows dark, and I begin to wish for company. The list sits before me on the table, reproaching me with intimations of missed opportunities and regretful abandonments.
There is a scratching at the window, and absently I open it, assuming that one of my cats is feeling lonely too. To my dismay, a small devil-creature, salivating with anticipation, leaps squatly into the room. I recognise it immediately as being of the type to possess the soul without hesitation. Backing away from its gleaming eyes, I consider my options. With a flash of intelligence, I announce to the devil-creature that it is yesterday, and today I am dead.
The creature looks quizzically at me. I insist that it has made an error - it is yesterday, and later this evening I kill myself with a large, sharp kitchen knife. I am dead. My soul has gone. The devil-creature is too late. It looks puzzled, but I explain, with placatory hand movements, that this is really a simple matter. As I am already dead, there is no point in attempting to take my soul. Come back in a week, I tell the devil-creature. The landlord will have re-let the house, and there will be fresh prey. Huffing and puffing, the creature waddles back to the window, and lurches off into the night.
Congratulating myself on my quick thinking, I close the window. I sit down once more in front of my list, and it is with a heavy heart that I wander into the kitchen and begin rifling through the knife drawer.
~Jeff Ament
yeah, it's no wonder he hangs out with radiohead!
~Jeff Ament
His hair was perfect.
yeah? any reccomendations?
~Jeff Ament