words of chinaski. . . .

சினாஸ்கியினை அறிய முந்தைய கட்டுரையான பீர் கவிதை கலவி வாழ்க்கை க்ளிக்கி வாசிக்கவும்.


மாஸ்டர் என்னிடம் கேட்ட கேள்வி இந்நாவல் பெண்களை இழுவுபடுத்துவது போல் இல்லையா ?
என் பதில் : சினாஸ்கியின் உலகம் நம்மை போன்ற மனிதர்களால் நுழைய முடியாத புதிர்களும் அந்தரங்கங்களும் அந்தரங்கங்களாக இருக்கும் ஒரு அம்மணமான உலகம். பார்ப்பதற்கு அவர்களின் மனம் அப்பழுக்கற்றதாய் தெரியும். இங்கிருக்கும் கோட்பாடுகள் அங்கு செல்லுபடியாகாது. அங்கு உலவும் பெண்களும் சினாஸ்கியின் சதை துணுக்குகளாக தான் தெரிகிறார்கள். அது அவனுடைய உலகம். அவனே ராஜா. அவனே கடவுள் அவனே கலவி அவனே மரணம் அவனே பெண்கள்.


முந்தைய கட்டுரைகளில் சொன்னது போல் சினாஸ்கியின் வார்த்தைகள். சினாஸ்கியின் மனத்தினை இக்குறிப்புகள் சொல்லலாம். யதார்த்தமோ வர்ணிப்பதற்கு அப்பால் தான் எப்போதும் நிற்கிறது.

I had a dream about you. I opened your chest like a cabinet, it had doors, and when i opened the doors i saw all kind of soft things inside you-teddy bears, tiny fuzzy animals all these soft, cuddly things. Then i had a dream about this other man. He walked up to me and handed me some piece of paper. He was a writer. I took the pieced of paper and looked at them. And the pieces of paper had cancer. His writings had cancer. I go by my dreams. I go by my dreams. You deserve some love

The greatest men are the most alone

"why did u seek to become a writer ?

next question please"

Pain is strange. A cat killing, a car accident, a fire. . .pain arrives, BANG, and there it.is, it sits on you. Its real. And to anybody watching you look foolish. Like you have suddenly become an idiot. there is no cure unless you know somebody who understand how you feel, and knows how to help

Education was the new God, and educated men the new plantation masters

"why cant you be decent to people ?


I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.

The heart is a lonely hunter

Few beautiful women were willing to indicate in public that they belonged to someone

Art takes discipline

There is a problem with writers. If what a writer wrote was published and sold many,many copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold a medium number of copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold very few copies the writer thought he was great. If what the writer wrote never was published and he didn't have the money to publish it himself then he thought he was truly great. The truth however, was that there was very little greatness. It was almost nonexistent,invisible.

"Have you ever been in love ?

Four times"

She was mine. I was a conquering army. I was a rapist. I was her master. I was death.

Once a woman turns against you forget it. They can love you, then something turns in them.

Thats the prob with drinking i thought as i poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget ; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate ; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen

People had to find things to do while waiting to die

Every woman is different. Basically they seem to be a combination of the best and the worst - both magic and terrible

"You mean you live in order to write ?

No, i just exist. Then later i try to remember and write some of it down"

Just living untill u die is hardwork

We were two animals in the forest and I was murdering her.

என்னுள்ளே இன்னமும் சினாஸ்கியின் வார்த்தைகள் அசைபோட்ட வண்ணமே இருக்கிறது. . . 

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