THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING

all that magic feeling nowhere to go

[dreamwaitinghope]

[puppetwithapistol-deactivated20]

Karen Mulder in “Belle d'un jour“ by Bettina Rheims for Vogue Paris, August 1994.

[affinitybaby]

[loliclownisdead]

[aestivalism]

That's the part I'm least interested in. The self. I'm only interested in the self as a gateway to other things…like pleasure, religion, death, culture, personal and collective histories, celebrity, and so on. Obviously we can't experience the world without a body so yes, the self has to be addressed. But I try to get the self out of the way as much as possible. In the first book I did that by excessively examining the self until it exploded, until there was nothing left…and now I'm more interested in blurring it, erasing it…throwing something over it.

Alex Dimitrov in Poetry Society 

[animatedtext]

[aestivalism]

Fuck all the male professors that said I would never write anything or finish anything because I can’t write anything that isn’t bullshit that sounds good with nothing in between! Yes... that’s an actual quote. 

But also, thank you to all the male professors that felt the need to be a complete asshole to their 20 year old writing student. You gave me the gift of righteous indignation, and someone to prove wrong. 

And as I continue to publish and write things, and just started my first novel today, I’m thinking of you. 

[aestivalism]

Ontological by Maggie Anderson

This is going to cost you. If you really want to hear a country fiddle, you have to listen hard, high up in its twang and needle. You can’t be running off like this, all knotted up with yearning, following some train whistle, can’t hang onto anything that way. When you’re looking for what’s lost, everything’s a sign, but you have to stay right up next to the drawl and pull of the thing you thought you wanted, had to have it, could not live without it. Honey, you will lose your beauty and your handsome sweetie, this whine, this agitation, the one you sent for with your leather boots and your guitar. The lonesome snag of barbed wire you have wrapped around your heart is cash money, honey, you will have to pay.

[the-book-diaries]

“How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?”

— Don DeLillo, White Noise

[virginiasummer-deactivated20200]

The Gender of Sound by Anne Carson, from Glass, Irony, and God. 

[pleviose]

[killtheillusion]

Jasmine Te Hira. Lost Content. (2015). From; A Drowned World, An online exhibition.

[achasma]

Detail from Cupid and Psyche in the Nuptial Bower by Hugh Douglas Hamilton.

[vikhau-deactivated20160119]

[declinate]

[aestivalism]

this weekend

friday

went plant shopping drove to hendersonville for flash with jolie had pizza at asheville brewing made a tattoo appointment finished and submitted my piece to a journal 15 minutes before the deadline went to double crown and ran into a bunch of friends got a cute boy’s number saturday  laundry got a tattoo with jolie went to green sage for a late lunch hung out at my old house allie came over to my apartment and we talked for hours went over to peter’s late to see his new spot sunday went to peter’s for coffee ran errands finished coffee met april and spencer at tarek’s pool for swimming dinner big boi! 

[ana-elisabeta]

[sunbathe]