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De Canadese dichter, folk singer-songwriter en schrijver
Leonard
Cohen werd geboren op 21 september 1934 te Montréal. Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Leonard
Cohen op dit blog..
Song
I almost went to bed
without remembering
the four white violets
I put in the button-hole
of your green sweater
and how i kissed you then
and you kissed me
shy as though I'd
never been your lover
Now of Sleeping
Under her grandmother's patchwork quilt
a calico bird's-eye view
of crops and boundaries
naming dimly the districts of her body
sleeps my Annie like a perfect lady
Like ages of weightless snow
on tiny oceans filled with light
her eyelids enclose deeply
a shade tree of birthday candles
one for every morning
until the now of sleeping
The small banner of blood
kept and flown by Brother Wind
long after the pierced bird fell down
is like her red mouth
among the squalls of pillow
Bearers of evil fancy
of dark intention and corrupting fashion
who come to rend the quilt
plough the eye and ground the mouth
will contend with mighty Mother Goose
and Farmer Brown and all good stories
of invincible belief
which surround her sleep
like the golden wheather of a halo
Well-wishers and her true lover
may stay to watch my Annie
sleeping like a perfect lady
under her grandmother's patchwork quilt
but they must promise to whisper
and to vanish by morning -
all but her one true lover.
Leonard
Cohen (Montréal, 21 september 1934)
In de jaren zestig
De Amerikaanse schrijver Stephen Edwin King werd geboren in
Portland, Maine, op 21 september 1947. Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Stephen
King op dit blog.
Uit: The
shining
Jack Torrance
thought: Officious little prick.
Ullman stood
five-five, and when he moved, it was with the prissy speed that seems to be the
exclusive domain of all small plump men. The part in his hair was exact, and
his dark suit was sober but comforting. I am a man you can bring your problems
to, that suit said to the paying customer. To the hired help it spoke more
curtly: This had better be good, you. There was a red carnation in the lapel,
perhaps so that no one on the street would mistake Stuart Ullman for the local
undertaker.
As he listened to
Ullman speak, Jack admitted to himself that he probably could not have liked
any man on that side of the desk --- under the circumstances.
Ullman had asked a
question he hadn't caught. That was bad; Ullman was the type of man who would
file such lapses away in a mental Rolodex for later consideration.
Scene
uit de film van Stanley Kubric uit 1980
"I'm
sorry?"
"I asked if your
wife fully understood what you would be taking on here. And there's your son,
of course." He glanced down at the application in front of him.
"Daniel. Your wife isn't a bit intimidated by the idea?"
"Wendy is an
extraordinary woman."
"And your son is
also extraordinary?"
Jack smiled, a big
wide PR smile. "We like to think so, I suppose. He's quite self-radiant
for a five-year-old."
No returning smile
from Ullman. He slipped Jack's application back into the file. The file went
into a drawer. The desk top was now completely bare except for a blotter, a
telephone, a Tensor lamp, and an in/out basket. Both sides of the in/out were
empty, too..
Stephen
King (Portland, 21 september 1947)
De Franse schrijver Frédéric Beigbeder werd geboren op 21 september 1965 in Neuilly-sur-Seine.
Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010 en eveneens alle tags
voor Frédéric
Beigbeder op dit blog.
Uit: Lamour dure trois ans
On fait semblant d'être indifférent au
divorce, mais arrive bientôt le moment terrible où l'on comprend être passé de
"La belle au bois dormant" à "Nous ne vieillirons pas ensemble".
Adieu souvenirs charmants, il faut renoncer aux surnoms adorables qu'on se
donnait, brûler les photos du voyage de noces, éteindre la radio quand on y
entend une chansons que l'on fredonnait ensemble. (...) Les seules fois où l'on
se croisera désormais, ce sera en présence d'une souriante avocate qui aura,
par dessus le marché, le mauvais goût d'être enceinte jusqu'aux dents.
Scene uit de gelijknamige film uit 2011
Il fallait jeter des
fleurs blanches dans les vagues en faisant un voeu que les divinités
réaliseraient dans lannée. Je ne sais pas ce qui sest passé : mes fleurs
devaient être moches, ou les dieux absents. En tout cas, je nai jamais été
exaucé.
(
)
Elles attendent le
Prince Charmant, ce concept publicitaire débile qui fabrique des déçues, des
futures vieilles filles, des aigries en quête dabsolu, alors que seul un homme
imparfait peut les rendre heureuses.
Frédéric
Beigbeder (Neuilly-sur-Seine, 21 september 1965)
De Vlaamse
dichter Xavier Roelens werd op 21 september 1976 in Rekkem
(Menen). Zie ook alle tags voor Xavier Roelens op dit blog.
Lichaam en ziel
de liefste broer van de hele wereld dobbelt
stenen
van het viaduct, telt de ogen en keert terug naar start
om een sollicitatiebrief te schrappen.
speeksel druipt mee de envelop in,
als lichaam en ziel verlangt het
hereniging, kent niet de reglementering ter zake.
'het kan morgen alleen maar beter.
wij wensen u veel succes.'
broer spingt over de omheining naar de gekantelde vrachtwagen
en verzamelt al wroetend en kwispelend wat overblijft.
Geheugenuitbreiding
schenk de slapende uw
ogen voor het uit de kassen
vallen, voel de ouderdom of bij
werkingen van een innoverend me
dicijn aan de tand kleven.
poets grondig treur niet om belasting
van systemen. uit uw nalatenschap,
uit adem van geschrap. het vormt
uw zekeringenkast, preventief,
vóór de implosie
Xavier Roelens (Rekkem, 21 september 1976)
De Amerikaanse
schrijfster en actrice Fannie Flag (eig. Patricia Neal) werd geboren op 21
september in Birmingham (Alabama). Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010en evenneens alle tags voor Fannie Flag
op dit blog.
Uit: I
Still Dream About You
If Maggie had lived most of her life under
the spell of her childhood, she wasnt alone. A lot of people still had a few
stars left in their eyes, and no wonder, growing up in a place called the Magic
City, with all of its lofty aspirations and illusions of grandeur. You could
see it everywhere you looked, from the towering smokestacks of the iron, coal,
and steel mills to the grand mansions atop Red Mountain to the sparkle in the
cement in the downtown sidewalks. The city was bustling and alive, with block
after block of elegant stores, where mannequins stood in haughty poses, dressed
in the latest fashions and furs from New York and Paris; blocks of showrooms
filled with fine rugs, lamps, and furniture, displayed so beautifully you
wanted to walk in and live there forever (or at least Maggie had). There had
always been an excitement in the air. A feeling that Birmingham, the
Fastest-Growing City in the South, was right on the verge of exploding into the
biggest city in the world. Even the streets had been laid out extra wide and
stood waiting, as if expecting a tremendous rush of traffic at any moment. From
the beginning, Birmingham had been bursting with ambition and hated being
second to Pittsburgh in steel production and having the second-largest city
transit system in the country. Even the towering iron statue of Vulcan, the
Greek god of fire and iron, that stood on the top of Red Mountain was only the
second-largest iron statue in the country, and during the war, when headlines
announced that Birmingham, Alabama, had been named the number two target city
in America to be bombed by Germany and Japan, everybody was terribly
disappointed; they would have loved to have been first! Their only consolation:
they did have the largest electrical sign in the world, which greeted all
visitors as they came out of the train station.
Fannie Flag (Birmingham, 21 september 1944)
De Britse schrijver
Herbert George Wells werd geboren op 21 september 1866 in
Bromley, Kent. Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor H. G.
Wells op dit blog.
Uit: The Time Machine
The earth had come to rest with one face to
the sun, even as in our own time the moon faces the earth. Very cautiously, for
I remembered my former headlong fall, I began to reverse my motion. Slower and
slower went the circling hands until the thousands one seemed motionless and
the daily one was no longer a mere mist upon its scale. Still slower, until the
dim outlines of a desolate beach grew visible.
"I stopped very gently and sat upon the
Time Machine, looking round. The sky was no longer blue. North-eastward it was
inky black, and out of the blackness shone brightly and steadily the pale white
stars. Overhead it was a deep Indian red and starless, and south-eastward it
grew brighter to a glowing scarlet where, cut by the horizon, lay the huge hull
of the sun, red and motionless. The rocks about me were of a harsh reddish
colour, and all the trace of life that I could see at first was the intensely
green vegetation that covered every projecting point on their south-eastern
face. It was the same rich green that one sees on forest moss or on the lichen
in caves: plants which like these grow in a perpetual twilight.
"The machine was standing on a sloping
beach. The sea stretched away to the south-west, to rise into a sharp bright
horizon against the wan sky. There were no breakers and no waves, for not a
breath of wind was stirring. Only a slight oily swell rose and fell like a
gentle breathing, and showed that the eternal sea was still moving and living.
And along the margin where the water sometimes broke was a thick incrustation
of salt, pink under the lurid sky. There was a sense of oppression in my head,
and I noticed that I was breathing very fast. The sensation reminded me of my only
experience of mountaineering, and from that I judged the air to be more
rarefied than it is now.
H. G.
Wells (21 september 1866 - 13 augustus 1946)
Portret door Pauline Fitzpatrick
De Duitse dichter Johann
Peter Eckermann werd geboren op 21 september 1792 in Winsen (Luhe). Hij was
bovenal de medewerker en vriend van Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.Zie ook mijn
blog van 21 september 2010 en eveneens alle tags
voor Johann Peter Eckermann op dit blog.
An die
Sommer-Winde
Süd und West, ihr linden, kühlen!
Und die ihr südwestlich weht!
Fächelt, säuselt, wenn im Schwülen
Mein geliebtes Mädchen geht!
Lüften könnt ihr, ja verschieben
Ihres Busens leichtes Tuch;
Aber müsst euch nicht verlieben,
Kühlen nur, das ist genug!
An die
Winter-Winde
Nord und Ost, ihr eis'gen Winde!
Und die ihr nordöstlich weht!
O, ich bitt' euch, leise! linde!
Wenn mein zartes Mädchen geht.
Dass ihr meine Seelenweide,
Wang' und Augen, nicht betrübt!
Dass ihre schöner Mund nicht leide,
Der so willig Küsse gibt!
Johann Peter Eckermann (21 september 1792 - 3 december
1854)
Slot Winsen
21-09-2013 om 15:12
geschreven door Romenu 
Tags:Leonard Cohen, Stephen King, Frédéric Beigbeder, Xavier Roelens, Fannie Flag, H.G. Wells, Johann Peter Eckermann, Romenu
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