Nothing will ever top their first visit, but the enchantment continues. So many things to love:
Sophia Grace whispering “Say ‘Fine, thank you!’” to Rosie Grace
Rosie indignantly saying “And we didn’t even know them!”
But my favorite thing of all is this pic their mom posted of a family trip to London, and in my heart they will wear princess dresses and dance together forever, even when Sophia Grace is in office as World Ruler and Rosie is Ambassador to the People.
Seize your cunt and express it!
Realizing more and more it’s my destiny to manifest Judy Chicago in every way. I remember Darby and I finding her zines during Ben is Dead days—the zine world, was of course so so masculine—and realizing that we were working in a feminist tradition. It was one of the most validating moments of my life. (Even if Mordam wouldn’t distribute us because we weren’t
men “punk enough.”)
WOMANHOUSE 1972 WOMANHORRORHOUSE 2012….?
The Fall’s “Lie-Dream of a Casino Soul” single came out November 12, 1981.
"Not only do I like your blog (haha I found it) but I also am OBSESSED with you secretly. Ok here we…"
Tully: I like Lana Del Rey
DeepOmega: that's because you've crossed what I call
DeepOmega: the Nostalgia Event Horizon
DeepOmega: it's in a different place for every person, but sooner or later we all cross it
DeepOmega: and next thing you know, found footage music videos for songs about video games seem really compelling
DeepOmega: I don't judge you for it, I just weep because it will eventually happen to me too
(ps DeepOmega, do I know you?)
“No longer was she merely the dancing-girl who extorts a cry of lust and concupiscence from an old man by the lascivious contortions of her body; who breaks the will, masters the mind of a King by the spectacle of her quivering bosoms, heaving belly and tossing thighs; she was now revealed in a sense as the symbolic incarnation of world-old Vice, the goddess of immortal Hysteria, the Curse of Beauty supreme above all other beauties by the cataleptic spasm that stirs her flesh and steels her muscles; a monstrous Beast of the Apocalypse, indifferent, irresponsible, insensible, poisoning.” —Joris-Karl Huysmans, describing Moreau’s painting of Salome with the head of St. John the Baptist.
antique painting that I couldn’t find an attribution for painting of a young white woman carrying a tray with the severed head of a man on it; ETA: via deepomega, it’s Bernardino Luini’s Salome with the Head of John the Baptist. ] <—I like it better than the Moreau!
"On the other hand, people who imagine history flatters them (as it does, indeed, since they wrote…"
This is the place in which, it seems to me, most white Americans find themselves. Impaled. They are dimly, or vividly, aware that the history they have fed themselves is mainly a lie, but they do not know how to release themselves from it, and they suffer enormously from the resulting personal incoherence. This incoherence is heard nowhere more plainly than in those stammering, terrified dialogues white Americans sometimes entertain with that black conscience, the black man in America.
The nature of this stammering can be reduced to a plea: Do not blame me. I was not there. I did not do it. My history has nothing to do with Europe or the slave trade. Anyway, it was your chiefs who sold you to me. I was not present on the middle passage. I am not responsible for the textile mills of Manchester, or the cotton fields of Mississippi. Besides, consider how the English, too, suffered in those mills and in those awful cities! I also despise the governors of Southern states and the sheriffs of Southern counties, and I also want your child to have a decent education and rise as high as his capabilities will permit. I have nothing against you, nothing! What have you got against me? What do you want? But, on the same day, in another gathering, and in the most private chamber of his heart always, the white American, remains proud of that history for which he does not wish to pay, and from which, materially, he has profited so much.
On that same day, in another gathering, and in the most private chamber of his heart always, the black American finds himself facing the terrible roster of his lost: the dead, black junkie; the defeated, black father; the unutterably weary, black mother; the unutterably ruined black girl. And one begins to suspect an awful thing: that people believe that they deserve their history, and that when they operate on this belief, they perish. But one knows that they can scarcely avoid believing that they deserve it; one’s short time on this earth is very mysterious and very dark and very hard. I have known many black men and women and black boys and girls who really believed that it was better to be white than black, whose lives were ruined or ended by this belief; and I, myself, carried the seeds of this destruction within me for a long time.”
James Baldwin, “White Man’s Guilt” (via notime4yourshit)
Have been rereading this a lot. Struggling with history. Splitting its apparently wholeness and facade of progress apart. Sitting with it and acknowledging it.
Now if you want to know why it’s so hard for victims of rape and sexual assault to come forward with their stories, look no further than the thousands of Penn State students who violently rioted last night in support of Joe Paterno, the coach who stood by and allowed a rapist to continue his criminal acts. Or look at the public statements by Herman Cain and his legal team to the women who have accused him of sexual harassment: Cain and his team have had no qualms about pronouncing that the women must remain quiet, or else they’ll be subject to severe public scrutiny and legal action. When a female CNBC newscaster questioned Cain about the allegations of improper sexual conduct, SHE was the one booed by the television audience. Every day, our society publicly intimidates victims and frightens them from coming forward.
C’mon America, we can do better than this. Joe Paterno is not a victim and neither is Herman Cain. We all know who the real victims are, and they need our compassion now more than ever. Come to Zuccotti Park on Sunday at 3 PM to show your support for the victims in the Penn State case and to support rape and sexual assault victims everywhere.
Penn State is a national tragedy, but it’s also just the tip of the iceberg. Last month, Joe Peters, an Olympic gymnastics coach resigned after allegations emerged that he sexually abused over 12 female gymnasts. Ever heard of him? Didn’t think so.
Remember a few months ago when allegations surfaced that an 11-year-old girl was gang raped by 18 men and boys in East Texas? Many in her community blamed her for dressing provocatively and hanging out with older boys—even though she was the victim, and a child.
Rapes and sexual assaults have even taken place at Occupy Wall Street. In the words of Zoe Leverant, “The Occupy movement seems to still be in danger of continuing the leftist tradition of asking women to set their needs aside until the ‘important things that affect everyone’ have been resolved. Sexual assault affects everyone, and this is a great way to communicate that.”
We must end the culture that condones rape and sexual assault. We must make sure that people of all genders can live in a world where all sexual activity is based on consent, not on force and violence. We must take all complaints of sexual harassment, abuse, and assault seriously and never blame the victims for the crimes.”
(note: I slightly edited this for more gender-neutral language, you’ll see the original if you click through.)