Jonathan Wells, âApril Morningâ
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Jonathan Wells, âApril Morningâ
is goncharov (1973) really that much less real than whatever show the destiel bloggers have been watching with their extrasensory perception for 15 years
my favorite poems ever
âTo make bread or love, to dig in the earth, to feed an animal or cook for a strangerâthese activities require no extensive commentary, no lucid theology. All they require is someone willing to bend, reach, chop, stir. Most of these tasks are so full of pleasure that there is no need to complicate things by calling them holy. And yet these are the same activities that change lives, sometimes all at once and sometimes more slowly, the way dripping water changes stone. In a world where faith is often construed as a way of thinking, bodily practices remind the willing that faith is a way of life.â
Barbara Brown Taylor
âLater, after I married and had a child, I learned to findâŠmeaning in the repeated rituals of domestic life. Setting the table. Lighting the candles. Building the fire. Cooking. All those soufflĂ©s, all that creme caramel, all those daubes and albondigas and gumbos. Clean sheets, stacks of clean towels, hurricane lamps for storms, enough water and food to see us through whatever geological event came our way.â
Joan Didion
âAt a certain level housekeeping is a regime of small kindnesses, which taken together, make the world salubrious, savory, and warm. I think of the acts of comfort offered and received within a household as precisely sacramental. It is the sad tendency of domesticityâas of pietyâto contract and of grace to decay into rigor and peace into tedium.â
Marilynne Robinson
âI think itâs thatâof course, we all have problems tidying our homes, but itâs not just that⊠We all have clutter in our hearts and thatâs what needs tidying.â
Marie Kondo, Interview with Stephen Colbert
âOften he was struck by a sensationâwhich he had experienced at Lispenard street as wellâthat they were playing house, that he was living some boyhood fantasy of running away from the world and itâs rules with his best friend and living in some unsuitable but perfectly commodious structure (a train car; a tree house) that wasnât meant to be a home but had become one because of its occupantsâ shared conviction to make it so.â
Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life
âDomesticity is very sacred to me. Making a home isâŠitâs just, like, the central thing in my life. When I cannot make a home, even in a hotel room, I feel really lost. Putting everything in a certain place on purpose. Not just, like, throwing shit down. But putting everything in a certain place on purpose and starting to sort of figure out how the trains run, basically. Like, what are the paths? What are the paths in the house that youâre going to take the most and what can you line those paths with? Or, in the hotel room, like, where are you going to put your journal and your book, so that youâre just starting to create little pathways so that youâre just starting to make pathways in this little garden and that they mark that space? I just take it really seriously. itâs sort of likeâŠitâs so sweet, itâs sort of like when you see children playing a game and you know theyâre marking out a world. And theyâre like âthis is where the dungeon is! And this is where the kitchen is in the castle! And this is where the-â And you canât see anything but the backyard but they can see everything. Thatâs what Iâm doing and Iâm doing it all the time. All the time. And itâs always there. Even when I get into the car, I think about where Iâm sitting and how Iâm sitting and what Iâm touching. And I just try hard to do that.â
Jenny Slate
âHe baked cakes with golden syrup, could sew a button by hand, braid hair into tight plaits that wouldnât come loose and recall a variety of old-fashioned homeopathic curesâcinnamon toast for a stomach ache, a nip of brandy for a cough. He showed me love as an act of daily care; but safety, as my father and [Marilynne] Robinson knew, canât be assured by domestic rituals. No amount of starch or shoe polish can stop a life from coming apart or guarantee that the ones we love will always stay with us, within an armâs reach. Yet still we sweep the floors and wash the sheets and hang them out in the sunlight. All this, like a sprinkling of salt around our boundaries, a spell to protect ourselves against abandonment, separation, loss. What else is housekeeping but a kind of magical thinking, a wish against the things we fear the most?â
Madelaine Lucas
Emily Berry, âThe Old Fuelâ
âWhen Gilbert came the next afternoon he found Anne waiting for him, fresh as the dawn and fair as a star, after all the gaiety of the preceding night. She wore a green dressânot the one she had worn to the wedding, but an old one which Gilbert had told her at Redmond reception he liked especially. It was just the shade of green that brought out the rich tints of her hair, and the starry gray of her eyes and the iris-like delicacy of her skin. Gilbert, glancing at her sideways as they walked along a shadowy woodpath, thought she had never looked so lovely. Anne, glancing sideways at Gilbert, now and then, thought how much older he looked since his illness. It was as if he had put boyhood behind him forever. [âŠ] âI have a dream,â he said slowly. âI persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friendsâand you!â Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her. âI asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?â Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.â
â Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery
darling (hatefully homoerotic)
The Impact of Aids on the Artistic Community
September 13, 1987
Transcription under the read-more:
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crying
âsometimes i open my mouth and my motherâs silences come / tumbling out of meâ
â Rita Wong, from âvalue chain,â Forage (via lifeinpoetry)
On November 5, 1917, 100 years ago today, Wilfred Owen wrote a gorgeous love letter to fellow gay World War I poet Siegfried Sassoon. It continues to be one of my favorite love letters of all time.
despair confession scene but when dean turns around to see the empty materialize he looks into the camera for a single second, pleading
do you ever think about chuck palahniuk writing âwe donât have a great war in our generation, or a great depression⊠the great depression is our livesâ in the early 1990s as a young gay man living in america at the peak of the aids epidemic
like i know the main thing iâve seen people talk about is the obvious homoeroticism between the narrator and tyler and, yâknow, how a fight club is the epitome of constructing intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men BUT if you think about it in the context of the time palahniuk was living in as a gay man there is SO much more to it than that
he wrote a book thatâs all about grappling with death and pain and wanting to take them into your own hands⊠literally the first line of the book ends with âthe first step to eternal life is you have to die.â itâs the narrator visiting all these different support groups for different diseases like cancers and blood parasites as a ~tourist in order to feel healthy and alive and free (note: most people who died of aids didnât die of the virus itself but of opportunistic infections and aids-related cancers). itâs about how âon a long enough time line, everyoneâs survival rate drops to zero.â like yes itâs intricate rituals, but itâs very specifically men sharing bodily fluids and blood. itâs about reclaiming death and using it as a symbol.
itâs about feeling abandoned and forgotten and ignored by the establishment and wanting to burn everything down because of that, about an entire generation of gay men trapped in a great spiritual depression, waging a war, a revolution, for their lives but one that was not acknowledged publicly for years while they suffered. itâs about living double lives, becoming someone Different under the cover of darkness, someone Stronger and Braver who could rage against the system the way you never even dreamed of doing in the daylight
itâs about being a member of A Club (where the initiation is a kiss that burns your skin) that exists everywhere and nowhere, and being able to immediately pick out someone else whoâs In The Club just by looking at them even though no one around you has a clue, and you just nod at each other and acknowledge your shared experience and save your actual interactions for secret back rooms and basementsâexcept pretty soon other people can tell thereâs something Unsavory going on with you because you start exhibiting physical signs that you canât hide anymore including bloody lesions on your face.
itâs about âonly in death will we have our own names since only in death are we no longer part of the effort. In death we become heroesâ + david wojnarowicz wearing a jacket in 1988 that said âif i die of aids â forget burial â just drop my body on the steps of the fdaâ. itâs about âhis name is robert paulson and he is fortyeight years old. his name is robert paulson, and robert paulson will be fortyeight years old, foreverâ + this panel from the AIDS memorial quilt that reads âmy name is duane kearns puryear. i was born on december 20, 1964. i was diagnosed with aids on september 7, 1987 at 4:45 pm. i was 22 years old. sometimes, it makes me very sad. i made this panel myself. if you are reading it, i am dead.â
literally every line of this book (and the film) mean More if you read it through this lens. âyou arenât your name. you arenât your family. âŠÂ everything you ever love will reject you or die.â taking the sentence âi am the toxic waste byproduct of Godâs creationâ that is the worst thing anyone could fear about themselves (and like.. itâs literally homophobia. especially re: gay men during the aids crisis) and weaponizing it because it means you have nothing to lose. tyler saying fuck the police and telling the police commissioner that âthe people youâre trying to step on, weâre everyone you depend on. weâre the people who do your laundry and cook your food and serve your dinner. we make your bed. we guard you while youâre asleep.â
anyways itâs not just homoerotic, itâs gay in a very specific way grounded very specifically in the moment in time when it was written and in the generational trauma of the aids crisis thanks for coming to my ted talk
dan & phil: super best friends and soulmates forever
when dean says âlast time someone looked at me like that i got laidâ heâs being vicious
like. he tells sam that he doesnât believe in him, tells bobby that heâs not his father. heâs hitting on what hurts most on purpose, and for cas itâs acknowledging this thing between them out in the open in a really vicious way. like. someone has buried a sword in his back and he pulls it through and slices cas open with it, too. theyâve had this really intense relationship and cas has literally and figuratively started falling for dean and they keep dancing around it and talking past each other and fundamentally i think theyâre both okay with that, for now. itâs the apocalypse and if they survive - well, who knows. but for now thereâs sort of outlined rules of engagement which yeah, do include standing very close and a little staring but certainly does not include explicitly talking about it. and so, the very first time they talk about it explicitly, dean is using it as a weapon to hurt cas. and it works, or it at least pisses him off. because itâs not just what he says, itâs the calculatedly casual way he says it, heâs intentionally cheapening this profound thing. itâs the way theyâve been building to something and they both know it and dean just uses it to try and hurt cas enough to push him away.