NOTES FROM

The sputnik sweetheart: a novel
Haruki Murakami

December 31, 2010 No title
On 3 November of the same year, Sputnik II was successfully launched, with the dog Laika on board. Laika became the first living being to leave the Earth¶s atmosphere, but the satellite was never recovered, and Laika ended up sacrificed for the sake of biological research in space.

December 31, 2010 No title
I think it was the right move, but if I can be allowed a mediocre generalization, don¶t pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world? Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life and it¶d lose even its imperfection.

December 31, 2010 No title
Posterity-descendants God offered Abraham a posterity like the jewels of heaven

December 31, 2010 No title
She was born and raised in Japan and studied at a music academy in France, so as well as Japanese she was fluent in both French and English. She always dressed well, in a refined way, with expensive yet modest accessories, and she drove a twelve-cylinder, navy-blue Jaguar.

December 31, 2010 No title
Take note of this author.

December 31, 2010 No title
Sumire wanted to be like a character in a Kerouac novel²wild, cool, dissolute.

December 31, 2010 No title
If she¶d taken one step back, she would have melted right into the wall.

And Sumire had . 2010 No title Rococo. December 31. just pitiful little beings swept from one kind of oblivion to another. regular sum paid as salary or allowance. That we were wonderful travelling December 31. 2010 No title Stipend-a fixed. but couldn¶t feel any sexual desire for her. Sumire loved this woman and desired her. I loved Sumire 133 and felt sexual desire for her. like something out of an existential play. It was all so complicated.late baroque style of 18th century continental Europe characterized as highly ornate and excessively ornamented December 31. 2010 No title Newspapers are all the same. Everything hit a dead end there. 2010 No title Music reference December 31. We were almost boundless zeros. December 31. This woman loved Sumire. 2010 No title A strange jet-lag numbness filled my head. something I wanted to cut out with scissors and pin to the wall of my memory. no alternatives left. 2010 No title And it came to me then. and didn¶t feel any desire for me.´ December 31. But I didn¶t love her. but didn¶t love me. Sumire liked me. I felt sexual desire for a woman who will remain anonymous. Here I was on a small Greek island.December 31. I couldn¶t separate the boundary between what was real and what only seemed real. 2010 No title There was nothing solid we could depend on. December 31. sharing a meal with a beautiful older woman I¶d met only the day before.a thing that expresses enthusiastic praise His books are paeans to combat December 31. They never tell you what you really want to know. 2010 No title Paean. 2010 No title It was an impressive sight.

a roundabout trip that.exited stage right. Aren¶t I spending all my time and energy in some useless pursuit? Hauling a bucket of water to a place that¶s on the verge of flooding? Shouldn¶t I give up any useless effort and just go with the flow? December 31. it¶s been a long time since I¶ve written something purely for myself. Not that I¶ve ever had that confidence. December 31. Forget Lotte Lenya. 2010 No title Except for a few letters. For convenience¶s sake most people erect a wall between them. In order for me to think about something. It makes life easier. Time¶s limited²no room for detours. Just between us. 2010 No title That being said. December 31. 2010 No title Understanding is but the sum of our misunderstandings. metaphors²gotta split. they come back down. Accepting things that are hard to comprehend. December 31. 2010 No title Who can really distinguish between the sea and what¶s reflected in it? Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness? December 31. though. 2010 No title Let me get back to what I was saying. I love that line. Sorry. for some strange reason. and leaving them that way. In a nutshell. did you ever see anyone shot by a gun without bleeding?´ This film came out at the height of the Vietnam War. But I just swept that wall away. and I¶m not very confident I can express myself the way I¶d like to. That¶s gotta be one of the principles behind reality. They go up. That¶s just the kind of person I am. I hate walls. most people find pleasant. 2010 No title . I always feel driven to write. December 31. Somehow. I had to. And bleeding. though. 2010 No title Ferris wheels don¶t go anywhere. really. Why? It¶s simple. Shooting and bleeding. I can¶t rid myself of my old familiar dark doubts. 2010 No title Lady. As I said before. December 31. inside us what we know and what we don¶t know share the same abode. that¶s my way of comprehending the world. I have to first put it into writing. December 31.

we continue to play out our lives this way. In the midst of our silence. it¶s gone for ever. . fortunate few cherish that flame. There¶s a place for me there. What I¶d lost was not just Sumire. December 31. 2010 No title Why do people have to be this lonely? What¶s the point of it 189 all? Millions of people in this world. all of them yearning. tall. My apartment¶s there. You¶re young. To the eight staplers and a Sunday afternoon in September. Something I just can¶t swallow. I¶d lost that precious flame. It¶s just something bothers me. No matter how deep and fatal the loss. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time. nicely tanned. Nothing personal. yet isolating themselves. in silence. my classroom. Like a small flame. The summer holidays are nearly over. Haruki. but since I first saw you something¶s been gnawing at me. 2010 No title Tomorrow I¶ll get on a plane and fly back to Tokyo. logical. pulling my thoughts back to the present. but I¶ll just go ahead and say it. December 31. my desk. Repeating. bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness. Vintage Books. I can¶t really explain it. Everything you say makes absolute sense. novels to read. But what is it that¶s gnawing at me. ³I know this is rude of me. Murakami. still seated. and I have to step once more in that endless stream of the everyday. so don¶t get angry. I¶m sure the parents of your pupils like you a lot. Since I laid eyes on you there¶s something just not quite right. The occasional affair. Quiet days await me. But once that flame goes out. no matter how important the thing that¶s stolen from us²that¶s snatched right out of our hands²even if we are left completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin from before. December 31. I wonder?´ December 31. A careful. hold it as a torch to light their way. often adroitly.Not words -something that couldn¶t coalesce into language. nurture it. The sputnik sweetheart: a novel. 2010 No title I took a deep breath. December 31. He looked up at me.´ the security guard said. looking to others to satisfy them. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness? December 31. 2010 No title So that¶s how we live our lives. my pupils. 2010 No title We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. something passed between us. the endless deeds of the everyday. 2010 No title ³One last thing. make a good impression.

2002-04-09 00:00:00+01:00. . ePub.

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