Archive for July 29th, 2012

July 29th, 2012

"All white women in this nation know that their status is different from that of black women/women of…"

“All white women in this nation know that their status is different from that of black women/women of color. They know this from the time they are little girls watching television and seeing only their images, and looking at magazines and seeing only their images. They know that the only reason nonwhites are absent/invisible is because they are not white. All white women in this nation know that whiteness is a privileged category. The fact that white females may choose to repress or deny this knowledge does not mean they are ignorant: it means that they are in denial.”

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bell hooks (via ohdidikillthequeen)

(via anorable)

(via blck-grrl)

July 29th, 2012

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July 29th, 2012

I took apart my microwave yesterday and today—I mean my…



I took apart my microwave yesterday and today—I mean my old microwave, the one I have had since 1987 because I am older than time and also I keep everything. It finally died earlier this year, right before my surgery, so Sarah bought me a new one at Target and brought it over so I could eat. That was like 5 months ago but the old one has been here ever since because it’s too heavy for me to move. People are always/often helping me or offering to help me, it is so lovely, but I kept feeling like, ugh I can’t ask someone to carry this monster downstairs. When I realized I could take it apart I was unreasonably excited! Mostly I used my screwdriver and some pliers, and I had to cut through a lot of wires which was somewhat terrifying even though they couldn’t have had any current running through them (or could they?). I took an electronics class last year and I vaguely considered seeing if I could fix it, but eviscerating it was so much more fun. Goodbye, microwave, may I undo and forsake many more things in your wake, no matter how heavy they are.

July 29th, 2012

"But that was the point. Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited…"

“But that was the point. Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited value. The fact are, after all, only the facts, and the yearning passionate part of you will not be met there. That is why reading ourselves as a fiction as well as a fact is so liberating. The wider we read the freer we become. Emily Dickinson barely left her homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts, but when we read, ‘My life stood—a loaded gun’ we know we have met an imagination that will detonate life, not decorate it. So I read on.”

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Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? (2012)

“reading” here, for me, in the broadest possible sense of the word.

(via feelingofgaze)
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July 29th, 2012

judyxberman: The New Pornographers — “The Fake Headlines” One…



judyxberman:

The New Pornographers — “The Fake Headlines”

One of the few cliches that I wholeheartedly believe is that great art tell us, as Rilke put it, “You must change your life.” I think this can be true in both figurative and literal ways, and in a whole range of magnitudes, although the extent to which a work of art materially changes our lives doesn’t necessarily correlate to the extent of its greatness. All of which is to say, there have been very few individual songs that have had as clear an impact on my life as “The Fake Headlines” by The New Pornographers.

Right after I graduated from college, in Baltimore, I moved to Astoria with my boyfriend and some friends. This was in 2005, before most new humanities graduates spent months or years unemployed, and I got a job in publishing fairly quickly. At first, I felt so grateful to have found something in the field that seemed to be my only hope at a real career. I had not done relevant internships; I just had a degree in creative writing and one good reference and clicked with my employer-to-be in the interview. Within six months I was editing manuscripts, but the work was still almost all administrative — sending emails to authors, scheduling meetings for my boss, keeping track of contracts and deadlines.

By the end of my first year, although there was not much I could fairly be upset about, I felt trapped and frantic. I had not been a particularly anxious person in the past, but now I was starting to have panic attacks thinking about the future. I did not know what I wanted, but I knew that a life of sending emails and having meetings and editing other people’s books — especially in a subject area I didn’t feel strongly connected to — was not it. There are wonderful, brilliant people in publishing who are doing hugely important work, and some of them were my colleagues. It was just not the career for me. Also, I was terrible at being an assistant. I sent well-written emails and was good at the actual editorial work, but every little request made me feel undervalued and subservient. I say this not to convince you that I was too good to be an assistant or that being an assistant is intrinsically degrading work; I mean it as an acknowledgment of my own control issues. (Weirdly, I tend to be gracious about taking editing/criticism despite having an unattractively adolescent aversion to “being told what to do” in general.)

Anyway, I eventually began to plan an escape strategy. Considering other jobs in publishing gave way to daydreaming about working for five years and saving enough money to quit and spend a year on a novel. I had studied creative writing in college but hadn’t finished a story since graduating. Then, on a whim, I pitched something to Bitch and got hooked on critical writing. I forget whether I began doing music news for Tiny Mix Tapes before or after I started considering journalism school.

What I do remember is the song that convinced me, in a way that no facts or calculations ever could, that I wanted to and could write for a living. The New Pornographers’ Mass Romantic was an album I revisited every few months, falling in love with a new song every time. I had been through the obvious ones already: the title track, “Letter from an Occupant” (which, incidentally, Greil Marcus remembers as “the only song that from 12 September 2001 through at least the next two weeks I could bear to listen to”), “The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism.” But this time, it was “The Fake Headlines.”

The beautiful mystery of Carl Newman’s songwriting is that he so often manipulates lyrics that don’t add up to a narrative or descriptive whole so that they nonetheless create a distinct mood. New Pornographers songs have very specific emotional resonances, even when the words are as nonsensical as, “This boy’s life among the electrical lights.” The best way to describe these lyrics, I guess, is impressionistic.

“The Fake Headlines” is a bit more cohesive than most of Newman’s New Pornographers songs. “I wrote the news today / In a tent outside the midway rides,” it begins. The narrator alludes to a dark past (“And when you see the bruises on my legs from kicking pills / Then you’ll see how recklessly the pages are filled”) and conflates journalism with songwriting (“I filled the whole front page / With the catchiest words I could find”). There are vaguely absurd expressions of ambition (“I want to think out so loud / That the fashion police break me”). Maybe it is troubling that the song that inspired me to change my life was one about a seasoned hack writing beautiful bullshit on deadline, but it’s what spoke to me. (It may also elucidate why I have always been a better critic than reporter.) There was a wearily heroic romanticism there, and every time I wavered in my decision to go into lots of debt, I listened to the song again and hopeful restlessness took over.

I am not interested in discussing whether journalism school was a good or bad decision for me — just the power of art to send us down different paths in both our thinking and our behavior. Before this weekend, it had been a while since I had listened to “The Fake Headlines.” Hearing it again, even now that it bears more resemblance to my life than it once did (although, please, I do not fabricate), the song still gives me a jolt. It recharges my idealism and makes me want to be audacious rather than just adequate.

July 29th, 2012

HEY, MALE-SOCIALIZED FOLKS.

iamshewhois:

If we’ve been sweet/kissy/sexy and you want to stop doing that (forever OR for now), or if you want to do it less frequently / avoid it as a habit, TALK ABOUT IT. I’ll understand, I promise.

I *NEED* you to *TALK* about it.

DO NOT just withdraw, cut back on contact, avoid me, put me in a position where I’m self-consciously initiating all contact, wondering whether to pull back.

I am EXHAUSTED of having to initiating these conversations with folks whose feelings are socialized as more important/rational than mine. It doesn’t feel fair that I should have to guess what you’re thinking, when my thoughts are the same as when we last spoke. Going from feverishly texting with you all day to not hearing from you for a week is a disaster for me. It triggers intense feelings of neglect, abandonment and worthlessness.

Poly is not an excuse to fade out. If your feelings change, share them so that I know you respect my position.


Thank you.

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July 29th, 2012

unicornology: Julia Pott’s incredible short…



unicornology:

Julia Pott’s incredible short film, Belly.

“We should rescue him.”

“Don’t want to.”

July 29th, 2012

fuckdudeskilldudes: i know a cattoo is the right tattoo because i immediately knew where it would…

fuckdudeskilldudes:

i know a cattoo is the right tattoo because i immediately knew where it would go

right on top of my xiphoid process

so that if anyone has to give me cpr ever, they will press on my cat to bring me back to life (is that how that shit works? or are you not supposed to press on the xiphoid process actually? fuck it’s been like a decade since i got my bronze medallion, idfk)

and also because that is the place on my body that I like……….pet? when I am excited or scared or sometimes hungry?

and so obviously there has been a cat there ALL ALONG

it’s just time to make it visible

ALSO the cat obviously has to go on my torso because

limbs are relational but torsos are about like………..being a thing

like “i AM a cat hello” not “i HAVE a cat”

This is exactly how i have felt about all of my work—it was always already there, and it’s so important. Excited for you!

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July 29th, 2012

pussy riot: will vladimir putin regret taking on russia’s cool women punks?

pussy riot: will vladimir putin regret taking on russia's cool women punks?:

fuckdudeskilldudes:

fluvicoline:

A: he’d better???

one time I went lake-swimming with some other grad students, including our department libertarian (i mean, there are a handful, but he’s the main one) and he was talking about how mel gibson is great and the epitome of manhood and whatever and I was like “that’s nice HAVE YOU GUYS HEARD OF PUSSY RIOT THOUGH?” and then i made everyone listen to me talk about pussy riot for like half an hour

I’m super into this strategy with squares. If people start talking about Girls, I launch into a discussion of AI and how you can break a robot’s heart, etc.

Note: tumblr keeps taking my notes out of reblogs and I have to then edit and re-add it, is that happening to other people?

July 29th, 2012

theswinginsixties: Mod fashions in Seventeen magazine, December…



theswinginsixties:

Mod fashions in Seventeen magazine, December 1967.

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