Posts Tagged Calendar App
I must say March is a little late to buy a new calendar. Still the Murakami Calendar App is worth the full 2 bucks as it will give you 10 more months of starting your day with the occasional Murakami quote, Murakami info, Murakami art, Murakami covers and some new Murakami stories!
The app itself is pretty basic – I would say perfectly minimal – and matches both the dreaminess we find in his stories as the new and old cover art for all Murakami titles published by Random House. The ‘new’ stories (that apparently already appeard in Irish literary magazine Southword in 2006) bring us the shortest Murakami texts ever. Could it be that the upcoming April release will be the first Murakami flash fiction collection? We know he likes to alternate his longer works with short stories… and personally I think 1Q84 was a bit too long.
What are you going to do today?
Read an exclusive story by Murakami. Without the music.
Once we had been duped out of our mosquito coils, we had nothing left to defend ourselves with against the attack of the sea turtle. I tried ordering more mosquito coils by phone and from a mail-order house, but, just as I thought, the telephone line had been cut, and there had been no mail service for more than two weeks. I should have known the cunning beast would never let us get away with such a thing: our stock of mosquito coils had kept him in misery too long. Now, for certain, he would be gloating and smiling and napping on the ocean floor, preparing himself for tonight.
“We’re done for,” my girlfriend said. “As soon as it gets dark, the sea turtle is going to eat us.”
“No, we can’t give up hope,” I said. “If we rack our brains, we don’t have to let any damned sea turtle have his way with us.”
“But he stole every last one of our mosquito coils.”
“No, keep your mind on fundamental truths, woman. If the sea turtle hates mosquito coils, there’s bound to be something else he hates.”
“Julio Iglesias,” I said.
“Julio Iglesias? But why?”
“I don’t know. The name just popped into my head. A kind of intuition.”
Following my intuition, I put Julio Iglesias’s “Begin the Beguine” on the turntable and waited for the sun to set. The sea turtle was sure to attack after nightfall. Then it would all be settled one way or the other: the sea turtle would either eat us or weep.
Just before midnight, we heard the wet slapping of footsteps outside. Instantly, I dropped the needle onto the record. As soon as Julio Iglesias began singing “Begin the Beguine” in that syrupy voice of his, the footsteps halted, to be replaced by the anguished groans of the sea turtle. Yes! We had beaten him!
That night, Julio Iglesias sang “Begin the Beguine” 126 times. I myself hate Julio Iglesias, but fortunately not as much as the sea turtle does.