Wind/Pinball: Two Novels

Looking at the ocean makes me miss people, and hanging out with people makes me miss the ocean.

All things pass. None of us can manage to hold on to anything. In that way, we live our lives.

How can those who live in the light of day possibly comprehend the depths of night?

There are no truly strong people. Only people who pretend to be strong.

Why do you read books?” he asked. “Why do you drink beer?” I replied without glancing in his direction,

However miserable your situation, there is always something to learn.

Sometimes, I imagine how great it would be if we could live our lives without bothering other people.

People with dark hearts have dark dreams. Those whose hearts are even darker can’t dream at all.

On any given day, something can come along and steal our hearts. It may be any old thing: a rosebud, a lost cap, a favorite sweater from childhood, an old Gene Pitney record. A miscellany of trivia with no home to call their own. Lingering for two or three days, that something soon disappears, returning to the darkness. There are wells, deep wells, dug in our hearts. Birds fly over them." -from "Pinball, 1973

Ascribing meaning to life is a piece of cake compared to actually living it." -from "Hear the Wind Sing

What we shared was no more than a fragment of a time long dead. Yet memories remained, warm memories that remained with me like lights from the past. And I would carry those lights in the brief interval before death grabbed me and tossed me back into the crucible of nothingness.

All of us are laboring under the same conditions. It’s like we’re all flying in the same busted airplane. Sure, some of us are luckier than others. Some are tough and some are weak. Some are rich and some poor. But no one’s superman—in that way, we’re all weak. If we own things, we’re terrified we’ll lose them; if we’ve got nothing we worry it’ll be that way forever. We’re all the same. If you catch on to that early enough, you can try to make yourself stronger, even if only a little. It’s okay to fake it. Right? There are no truly strong people. Only people who pretend to be strong.

There can be no meaning in what will someday be lost. Passing glory is not true glory at all.

People are awkward creatures. A lot more awkward than you seem to realize.

Am I happy? All I can say is I guess so. That's pretty much the way it is with dreams.

We're all wrong, every one of us.

Civilization is communication,” the doctor said. “That which is not expressed doesn’t exist.

There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of writing. Just as there’s no such thing as perfect despair.

Writing honestly is very difficult. The more I try to be honest, the farther my words sink into darkness." -from "Hear the Wind Sing

There are things in this world you can’t do a damn thing about.” “Like what?” “Like a rotten tooth, for example. One day it just starts aching. No one can ease the pain, no matter how hard they try to comfort you. It makes you furious with yourself. Next thing you know you’re furious with them because they aren’t pissed off with themselves. See how it escalates?

It had been a long time since I felt the fragrance of summer: the scent of the ocean, a distant train whistle, the touch of a girl's skin, the lemony perfume of her hair, the evening wind, faint glimmers of hope, summer dreams. But none of these were the way they once had been; they were all somehow off, as if copied with tracing paper that kept slipping out of place." -from "Hear the Wind Sing

One could say that the greatest sins afflicting modern society are the proliferation of lies and silence. We lie through our teeth, then swallow our tongues." -from "Heart the Wind Sing

Time goes by so damn fast.

Almost nothing can be gained from pinball. The only payoff is a numerical substitution for pride. The loses, however, are considerable. You could probably erect bronze statues of every American president (assuming you are willing to include Richard Nixon) with the coins you will lose, while your lost time is irreplaceable. When you are standing before the machine engaged in your solitary act of consumption, another guy is plowing through Proust, while still another guy is doing some heavy petting with his girlfriend while watching "True Grit" at the local drive-in. They're the ones who may wind up becoming groundbreaking novelists or happily married men. No, pinball leads nowhere. The only result is a glowing replay light. Replay, replay, replay — it makes you think the whole aim of the game is to achieve a form of eternity. We know very little of eternity, although we can infer its existence. The goal of pinball is self-transformation, not self-expression. It involves not the expansion of the ego but its diminution. Not analysis but all-embracing acceptance. If it's self-expression, ego expansion or analysis you're after, the tilt light will exact its unsparing revenge. Have a nice game!

I didn't know it would get this hot," she said. "It's hot as hell." "Hell is hotter." "Sounds like you've been there." "I've heard it from someone. They make it hotter and hotter till you think you'll go crazy; then they move you someplace cooler for a while. Then when you're recovered a little they move you back again." "So hell it's like a sauna." "Yeah, more or less. But a few can't recover and go totally bonkers." "So what happens to them?" "They get sent up to heaven, where they're forced to paint the walls. You see, the walls in heaven have to be kept a perfect white. As a result, they have to keep painting from dawn till dusk every day. It messes up their respiratory systems big time.

it’s even harder to talk about girls who have died young: by dying, they stay young forever.

In the end we all die anyway.