@madriguero - Tumblr Blog

Bob Dylan in the NYT today, in a piece where a few artists in their 80s were asked about the best and worst parts of reaching that age, and whether they had advice for the president on his getting to the milestone. (Dylan apparently demurred on the final question, not surprisingly.)

Chris Willman

neoyorzapoteca

“(…) ask myself often: What story am I telling—both to myself and to the world? Most of the time, it runs just beneath overt awareness, like the ambient sound in a hotel lobby, a soft murmur, a water feature you stop hearing. Then one day, you catch it. You really listen. And you realize: this is what’s been playing on a loop. Now, I try to be responsible for the texture of my thinking. Not in pursuit of perfection, but as a daily practice—a quiet vow: to become, thought by thought, more hospitable to the invisible and less bound to the performance of a self I once believed others required. I’ve let go of the idea of a unified identity. What draws me now is something closer to cogency—not a fixed core, but a constellation of what I love: people, practices, questions. What gathers there, hums.”

— Writer and diviner Selah Saterstrom on taking turns to light our passageway through disaster – The Creative Independent

teddypng

Joan Baez performing at Culver Academies, 1962

fragrantblossoms

George Hendrik Breitner. Portret van mogelijk Lise Jordan, c. 1901 - c. 1903.

Dennis Cooper reads from the penultimate chapter from his book I Wished, video taken from the Poetry Project’s January 1, 2021 Poetry Marathon.

#video

steroge

French composer and synthesizer pioneer Éliane Radigue, Paris, 1971; Photo by Yves Arman

Mothers of invention

fragrantblossoms

Edward Weston. Untitled [three figures - two from Chupicuaro], 1926.

John Frusciante's handwritten poem

#palabras #frusciante

Every thing is green she is saying. She is whispering it and the whisper is not to me no more I know. I chuck my smoke and turn hard from the morning outside with the taste of something true in my mouth. I turn hard toward her in the light on the sofa lounger. She is looking outside, from where she is sitting, and I look at her, and there is something in me that can not close up, in that looking. Mayfly has a body. And she is my morning. Say her name.

— David Foster Wallace, from everything is green

#palabras

eternal--returned

Cy Twombly ֍ Octavio Paz - Cy Twombly (1993)

h-e-r-z-j-a-g-e-r

Petroglyphs of the Karelian White Sea

fearlastyear

my favorite character descriptions of all time:

1. “Madeline Usher, always in the process of disappearing but never permanently buried” 2. “Lucy is the first dead girl we have met who is in her heart alive.” 3. Antigone: “bacchante of corpses”