Time enough to last

📖

[hairtusk]

Hole Theory, Thomasin Frances (15/10/2022)

[toiich]

Agnès Varda

[journalofsolitude]

Morgan Harper Nichols’ ‘Let July be July’

[weltenwellen]

An Interview with Richard Siken

[podencos]

Annie Ernaux's unpublished journal entries

[weltenwellen]

I Remember The Carrots Ada Limón

[replanting]

from “ask polly: why should i keep going?”

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Nina LaCour via letsbelonelytogetherr

[metamorphesque]

Tired, Langston Hughes

[paper-fairy]

“At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow.”

— Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary 

[theoptia]

Louise Glück, from The Wild Iris; “The Wild Iris”

[orpheuslament]

Introduction to The Iliad, Emily Wilson

[nixscriptum]

[weltenwellen]

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

[metamorphesque]

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, Harlan Ellison

[nousrose]

The alienation of the spectator, which reinforces the contemplated objects that result from his own unconscious activity, works like this: the more he contemplates, the less he lives; the more he identifies with the dominant images of need, the less he understands his own life and his own desires. The spectacle's estrangement from the acting subject is expressed by the fact that the individual's gestures are no longer his own; they are the gestures of someone else who represents them to him. The spectator does not feel at home anywhere, because the spectacle is everywhere.

The Society of the Spectacle

Guy Debord

[daweyt]

— Frank Bidart, from “Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016; 'Guilty of Dust'”, published c. 2017.