Archives des articles tagués Interpol

Tonight I needed to start on a quote (Interpol, Memory Serves). Memory serves me, and I’ll wait to find if it serves you too.

I don’t know how my soul is served when I drench it back with the Sea of Japan, my own see of Japan, that is to say a cover. A crossover. A mix of filling music, and quenching readings. Quenching livings.

My stay was a whole lack of words.

Now I’m listening to its echo, glistening echo. And as I somehow feel it has come to a halt, I remember again, buckling up all these wineful tears. A bucketful of these.

Music serves me: It triggers a reaction in my soul, the same as I used to have. A reaction in my soul, the same as I used to. Have. An unused word.

A little more wine. A little more food. All the same, you fool. Me fool.

The bucket is not full to the rim yet. Try it on, cry a little faster, cry a little further, down to a place where there’s nowhere to stay.

How can a music crave its way so hard to my heart? How can I love so deep that a whole country in me shakes? How can sounds can move my body to a place it doesn’t belong to at all? How… can you love this shakiness in me?

How can I still be chasing my damage at the same tunes?

Maybe because it raised me.

I am looking for the word spilled on the street, yes, the same you dropped by on your way to the fall.

I may be inspired by Interpol. Gloomy music composes the thread of my days, the threat to my ways. It’s like saying, or rather singing to the wind, « Never stop whirling these things in my head. Never top my head with heatwaves anymore.

Fill me with nature filtered through town. »

My heart is heavy, but how could it be otherwise? How could I want it light when even winds are strong and deep? When the ground’s dirt is being lifted up, and transported to my heart altogether?

Could I just want it that way, and never complain anymore? Could I just accept the dirt for being dirty, the filth for being filthy, the shit for being all the same?

I might be insane, as you might say. (That leaves us with « being sane » as the most probable thing that could happen to me.) But I might just as well be fond of dark paths and scary parts, mad cats and weary naps.

You never know, I might be a diver too. Or a pioneer, if it does matter. And I’m gonna sing it up to the moon, as another tiring autumn day vanishes blankly in the crisp air.