Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
titsay
i don't do bad sauce passes
@theartofmadeline
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shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
noise dept.
JBB: An Artblog!
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trying on a metaphor
Kaledo Art
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Romania
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@0547am
Drag is less a single kind of act than a heterogeneous system, an ecological field whose intensive and defining relationality is internal as much as it is directed toward the norms it may challenge.
EVE KOSOFSKY SEDGWICK, touching feeling: affect, pedagogy, performativity
Feeling for texture, the historian inevitably and necessarily also brings with her the intricate texture of her own provisional knowing of cultures, societies, emotions, bodies, and more. Touch is, after all, always a two-way encounter.
VIRGINIA BURRUS, saving shame: martyrs, saints, and other abject subjects
Shamelessness is always at least as ambivalent as shame itself, balanced between a refusal and a willful embracing of shame. Whatever it is, it is not simply outside shame but is at once resistant to and continuous with it. Cultivating courage, shamelessness engages the fear of being shamed and thus also exposes the coercive force of shaming: as eye meets eye, defying shameʼs inhibition, shame is itself shamed.
VIRGINIA BURRUS, saving shame: martyrs, saints, and other abject subjects
Shame arrives, then, in the rush of self-consciousness in which the spontaneity of curiosity or joy is interrupted and rendered problematic, marked by a sense of danger or risk, but thereby also made sharply visible to the self and thus, it would seem, effectively augmented in the process. In shame, desire, whatever its object (and in Tomkinsʼ theory at least, there is no privileging of the sexual, much less the heterosexual, object) is not so much decisively blocked as tantalizingly arrested, caught like a deer in the headlights of (self-) scrutiny. The moment is open: what happens next perhaps makes all the difference.
VIRGINIA BURRUS, saving shame: martyrs, saints, and other abject subjects
According to Muñoz, “brownness is a being with, being alongside”. It is at the same time, we would add, a being against. These are not contradictory forms of being. Rather, as Sara Ahmed reminds us, “being against is also being for something, but something that has yet to be articulated or is not yet”. It is the “not yet” that keeps us here. It is the “not yet” that keeps us.
JOSEPH M. PIERCE and MANU SAMRITI CHANDER, cousin theory: brown kinship and the nineteenth-century domestic novel
I, who was never quite sure about being a girl, needed another life, another image to remind me. And this was my worst guilt; you could not cure nor soothe it. I made you to find me.
ANNE SEXTON, the double image
The prerequisite for conversion wasnʼt knowing how to behave in a church, or having a religious vocabulary or an a priori “belief” in an abstract set of propositions. It was hunger, the same hunger Iʼd always carried.
SARA MILES, take this bread
Brethren / the closest my eyes came to God was in the blur
NOME EMEKA PATRICK, the body walks through grief towards god
What was long called race is more accurately described as racism: a practice of racialisation that goes towards the establishment and perpetuation of particular relations of social and political dominance.
GYANENDRA PANDEY, racialisation of subaltern populations across the globe: the politics of difference
I will survive. I will become my utter self / and this is it: I am the god
CATHERYNNE M. VALENTE, mouse koan
mary magdalene as a hermit, 1833 / dean winchester, 2006
Perhaps the real test was for Abraham was to confront God as he did at Sodom, thus teaching his children “righteousness and justice,” and ultimately to say “no” to God. Perhaps, on some level in this narrative, Abraham failed the test... God never speaks to Abraham again.
RABBI HYIM SHAFNER, did abraham fail the ultimate test?
I don’t know what I’m made of; I wish that I did. That I could gut myself like a fish or a fruit.
LARISSA PHAM, abject permanence
If I could kill you I would then have to make another exactly like you. To tell it to.
ANNE CARSON, the beauty of the husband
We have this deep sadness between us and its spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.
ANNE CARSON, the beauty of the husband
The lives of the saints become our lives. God says, watch your back.
CHARLES WRIGHT, lives of the saints
KREON: some god slammed down on me / a heavy weight / some god shook me out on those raw roads
ANNE CARSON, antigonick