Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Andulka
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Janaina Medeiros
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosmic Funnies
Show & Tell
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@theartofmadeline
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Discoholic 🪩
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
noise dept.
Not today Justin
DEAR READER
wallacepolsom
#extradirty
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seen from Australia
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seen from T1
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seen from Türkiye
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@rowdwrites
I am out with lanterns, looking for myself. Such wits as I reserved, are so badly shattered that repair is useless — and still I can't help laughing at my own catastrophe.”
–Emily Dickinson, From a letter to Elizabeth Holland, 1856.
Anne Carson, from Red Doc> [ID in alt text]
Joy Sullivan, from “Raze”, Instructions for Traveling West
To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.
Mary Oliver, from "In Blackwater Woods" in American Primitive
There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn't that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life.
Anne Carson, from Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides; Tragedy: A Curious Art Form.
"It's like a hole in my life, an eight-year hole. That's what I find interesting in people's lives, the holes, the gaps, sometimes dramatic, but sometimes not dramatic at all. There are catalepsies, or a kind of sleepwalking through a number of years, in most lives. Maybe it's in these holes that movement takes place."
—Gilles Deleuze, On Philosophy
anne carson interviewed by kate kellaway for the guardian
From a poetry collection by Mary Oliver, where after a hundred poems showcasing gentle observations on nature and animals, she hits you with this:
The eye of a marble statue from Herculaneum, with surviving paint. Roman before 79 AD.
Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963.
Sam Sax, Yr Dead (McSweeney's, 2024)
Because of Re: Carmilla, I thought you all would enjoy my edition of Carmilla :
The holes go all the way through, the sides of the book are red, and on some pages the text is colored red just under the holes !
I was so happy when I found it in a little french bookshop specialized in queer texts ❤️
The soul that has no fixed goal loses itself; for as they say, to be everywhere is to be nowhere.
— Montaigne, "Of Idleness"
The thing is to stalk your calling…. I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you.
— Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters (Harper & Row, 1982)
Gentle reminder that often creativity decides to hibernate for a bit.
It’s okay. You’re not broken, you’re resting, and much like spring, creativity comes back.
In Art Therapy we call this incubating.
You’re incubating ideas. Like an egg. There’s stuff growing inside. Your ideas are collecting and culminating and melding, merging into something.
Don’t crack it open before it’s ready. Wait until you hear it tap tap tapping with its egg tooth. Then slowly help it from its shell bit by bit.
Be kind. Be gentle. We are all growing things tender and soft but capable of great power if given the time to grow and change.
I was ruminating on this a lot a few months ago, being so frustrated with feeling depleted with the interest to do the thing that usually gives me so much joy, comfort and connection. The thought I held onto was that creativity is the like the Wadden Sea. The ocean is gone and it looks like what’s left is boring, plain mud flats all the way to the horizon. But this is actually precious ground full of life and an important part of our ecosystem. So it is okay to cherish the plainness and muddiness of it. It is just part of the rhythm. The tide will be back soon again.
“I was like a physicist who believes in quarks intellectually, but doesn’t feel quarks. I could make all the Thomist arguments about God and discuss Spinoza and say all the right things. But I didn’t feel God. It was not a thing of the heart for me. I could defend the idea of God but it was all from hearsay evidence, a lawyer would call it. None of it had any emotional truth for me. I mean, there was a place in me that wanted God to be in it, but it was empty.”
— Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow
“I like to think of the zuihitsu as a fungus—not plant or animal, but a species unto itself. The Japanese view it as a distinct genre, although its elements are difficult to pin down. There’s no Western equivalent, though some people might wish to categorize it as a prose poem or an essay. You mentioned some of its characteristics: a kind of randomness that is not really random, but a feeling of randomness; a pointed subjectivity that we don’t normally associate with the essay. The zuihitsu can also resemble other Western forms: lists, journals. I’ve added emails to the mix. Fake emails.”
— Kimiko Hahn
