I was fortunate that I was at newspapers for eight years, where I wrote at least five or six stories every week. You get used to interviewing lots of different people about a lot of different things. And they aren't things you know about until you do the story.
quote by Chuck Klosterman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Because people have read those things in the newspapers, they think it is true. Ten years ago all these things I have just mentioned would have upset me.
quote by Ruud van Nistelrooy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's funny about Jesus' Son is that I never even wrote that book, I just wrote it down. I would tell these stories and people would say, You should write these things down.
quote by Denis Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Envy
People envy many
things
houses, lots
diamond rings.
Fancy clothes
takes their eye.
They sit, let
time go by.
Possession position,
earthly fame
Just to have a
well-known name.
These are nice I
agree
important things
aren't bought,
they're given free.
like people laughing,
people walking
sometimes holding
hands and talking.
poem by Heather Burns
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Interview
(carly simon/don was)
A sweet young man sat on my chair
With a tape machine and a face of fear
He asked how does it feel to be who you are
I thought, this boy really thinks Im a star
I answered him with humility
And then asked him if hed like some tea
Interview, whos interviewing who
Are you interviewing me
Or am I interviewing you
He asked if the rug was some ancient, lovely thing
I lied and said yes a gift from a king?
I watched his arms and how his lips moved
He asked me if my parents approved
He asked to see my ruby ring
And if as a child I had liked to sing
Interview, whos interviewing who
Are you interviewing me
Or am I interviewing you
I said yes, oh yes 400 times
youre so open? he said do you always tell the truth? ?
never,? i said, whats that? ?
But how would it feel to hold me in your arms
You could get to know me down on the farm
Then you could see me as the child Ive become
cause being grown up can be so lonesome
Baby, how would it feel to hold me now
Baby, how would it feel to hold me now
Interview, whos interviewing who
Are you interviewing me
Or am I interviewing you
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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No Time
By hank cicalo
Hober reeber sabasoben
Hobaseeba snick
Seeberraber hobosoben
What did you expect?
No time, no time for you.
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
Runnin from the risin heat
To find a place to hide,
The grass is always greener
Growin on the other side.
No time, no time for you
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
[instrumental riff]
No time, no time for you
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
[instrumental riff]
No time, no time for you
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
Tryin to tell the world
Somehow of how I feel.
Tell me what you said again,
I cant believe its real.
No time, no time for you
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
Andy, youre a dandy,
You dont seem to make no sense.
Nevermind the furthermore,
The plea is self-defense
No time, no time for you
I got no time, baby,
Got lots of better things to do.
Got no time
I got no time
[repeat, adlib and fade]
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things Are Getting Better
Well I worked for a week and I got no pay.
(things getting better.)
Well my babys coming back home to stay
(things getting better.)
Well shes coming back home, but I havent got a dime
(things getting better.)
But Ive got my love to keep me fine[? ].
(things getting better.)
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Well since my babys been away,
(things getting better.)
Well things got worse from day to day.
(things getting better.)
Well now my babys come back to me.
(things getting better.)
Yeah, itll get better, wait and see.
(things getting better.)
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Well I pawned my watch and I sold my car.
(things getting better.)
The money Ive got wouldnt get me far.
(things getting better.)
But I dont mind now that youve packed.
(things getting better.)
Its a fact, that
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faded Pages
Recently I started retyping
a manuscript of short stories
I had written twenty years ago.
The pages were faded;
too much time being opened to the sun.
As I typed, I smiled
at the things I had written
and the dialogue I had created.
The stories are about a cat
and looking at the world
through his eyes and thoughts.
I had even created him a language
that I had to write a glossary
at the back of the book to explain
what some of the phrases meant.
There is a vast array of characters
and most have a funny turn.
I also remember what prompted me
to write the stories long ago.
My original intention was to write
one story and one story only,
but a friend of mine at the time
persuaded me to write another and another.
Before long, a volume was finished
with enough stories to start another.
From a one off story I have written over sixty now
about the cat and all his friends.
Now as I flick through these faded pages,
which I haven’t read in years,
I find myself being reunited
with many long lost friends.
26 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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A GIRL IN DERRY June 19th,2011
A girl in Derry long ago said that I was full of lust,
She was probably right as she left me in the dust,
Said she was going to join a convent the very next week,
I often wonder if that experience was completely unique.
And if perchance she’s still alive, would she remember me,
A Canadian sailor from across the Atlantic sea,
But that was very long ago, even long before the pill,
Before many lovely ladies went crazy but some don’t still.
Is there something I may have missed somewhere along the way?
Lots of things forgotten so I should have kept a dossier,
Or wrote a book about the many people and events,
Could have been a best seller because of the contents.
poem by James Bredin
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Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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She's Electric
She's electric
She's in a family full of eccentrics
She done things I never expected
And I need more time
She's got a sister
And god only knows how I've missed her
On the palm of her hand is a blister
And I need more time
And I want you to know
I've got my mind made up now
But I need more time
And I want you to say
Do you know what I'm saying?
But I need more ....
Coz I'll be you and you'll be me
There's lots and lots for us to see
There's lots and lots for us to do
She is electric
song performed by by Oasis from (What's The Story) Morning Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Estoy Aqui - I Am Here
I'm Here
I know you aren't coming back
everything we got time left it behind
I know you aren't bringing back what we spent together
it wouldn't never repeat again
A thousand years won?t be enough
to erase you and forget
And now I'm here trying to convert
cities from countries
mixing sky with sea
i know I let you run away
I know I lost you
nothing is gonna be the same
A thousand years can be reach so I can forgive
chorus:
I'm here, loving you
drawning myself
between pictures and notebooks
between things and memories
that i can't understand
I'm turning crazy
changing feet for my face
this night for day
and there's nothing i can do
The letters i wrote i never sent them away
you wouldn't want to know about me
I can't understand
how fool i was
is a matter of faith and time
A thousand years with others a thousand years more
Are enough to love
Chorus
If you still think some of me
you know I'm still waiting for you
Chorus
song performed by by Shakira
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's probably why I'm a short story writer. I tend to remember things in the past in narrative form, in story form, and I grew up around people who told stories all the time.
quote by Tobias Wolff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He's still not interviewing other people; he's still interviewing himself.
quote by John Corry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you hear a person talking good about things that aren't in you, don't be sure that he wouldn't also say bad things about things that aren't in you.
Warmer Than Winter, Colder Than Summer
In summer, when the wishes of us grow up like a steeple,
When we feel the warm weather, and see happy people
All the sadness and all the bad things will gone
No one feels hard, the life of cruel people is done.
Wishes, dreams, our childhood laughs…oh look, here is sweet home!
Wow! Home, sweet home! For the vacation of this summer let's go to Rome!
For our life we wrote lots of plans
And if we couldn't make them, our life will be so tight, as the soda cans!
In winter we rather to stay at home, near our dreams and our dear pen,
We drink warm coffee with our dear parents, now and then
Winter has lot's of stories to say,
Stories about the old steam of past and lovely frozen bay
All is about us, we can have our winter warmer than summer and we can have a summer that is colder than winter,
But the thing that is always warm and charmer in these two seasons, is the sun that comes from Easter!
poem by Ellias Anderson
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Summer To Winter
summer to winter
and spring to fall
things will change
everything rearranged
people will shift
relationships drift
but things that are known
the love that is shown
will help you through
as things change
others stay the same
the sun will shine
things will grow
tides will rise
and stars will glow
just because some things aren't the same
doesn't mean everything will change
just look to the skyy.
or watch the falling tides
and find hope in the things you know.
poem by Jackie Lynn
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You can take any one of our stories that we use right now, put western clothes on us, stick us out in the west and they'll work just as well - any single one of them - because they're stories about people, they're stories about things.
quote by Majel Barrett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Emptiness Collected (Things)
Things,
People pray for.
Things,
People have.
Things,
All around the people.
And things they have make them sad.
Things,
They ask of God to give.
Things,
They get don't please.
And when they realize it's not things they need...
That touch that is desired and wanted,
Has come to leave...
Them!
With their things!
And a generous offering,
Felt...
Of an emptiness collected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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