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Lunch 8/18
Wilder waited for Robyn, leaning against the wall. He had to be strict with her, not an ass just strict. He couldn’t and wouldn’t fail because they couldn’t get through shit together. Seeing her coming, Wilder pushed off the wall and walked towards her. Coming face to face with the girl, Wilder nodded to her. “Follow me. I expect you to use my title when responding. Do you understand?” Wanting to make sure she knew he wasn’t playing around. @subxslyxrobin
Levi's passion combined with precision powerfully challenges the current practice of writing about affects and emotion in a generalized and abstract way. This tendency uncouples writing from the real effects that affects such as shame produce in the world and for the world. Writing is interested; it is deeply embedded in contexts, politics, and bodies. Of course, the ways in which shame is written need to be carefully handled by the writer and the reader.
Elspeth Probyn, “Writing Shame” from The Affect Theory Reader pg. 89
a precise emotion demands precise description. In other words, affects have specific effects; it makes no sense to talk about them outside this understanding. Precise descriptions of the affective -- in my case, shame -- -can also affect other concepts: ideas such as the body and its relation to writing or rethinking an ethics of writing. A general gesture to Affect won't do the trick. If we want to invigorate our concepts, we need to follow through on what different affects do, at different levels. The point needs to be stressed: different affects make us feel, write, think, and act in different ways. Shame, for example, works over the body in certain ways. It does this experientially -- the body feels very different in shame than in enjoyment -- but it also reworks how we understand the body and its relation to other bodies or, for want of a better word, to the social. This matters at the level of theory. It matters in terms of what we want writing to do.
Elspeth Probyn, “Writing Shame” from The Affect Theory Reader pg. 74
BADLANDS (1973)
Directors of Photography: Tak Fujimoto, Stevan Larner, Brian Probyn | Director: Terrence Malick
Stolen || Robyn & Josie
How Josie ended up in this blonde woman’s car, she’d never know. Robyn. That was her name. Golden and bright, always smiling it seemed and fuck, she annoyed the hell out of Josie without even really speaking to her. It was hypocritical and she knew it. But Josie couldn’t stand how put together she always looked when there were more important things to be concerned about, and it didn’t matter how much time the short blonde spent in front of the mirror, dying her hair and snipping off tresses. Robyn was just more annoying, totting herself around in a Lincoln. Christ. Josie had just stepped into the car without looking or caring, just wanting to be on the road.
Fuck, did she choose the wrong one.
So Josie kept her mouth shut tightly, like she usually did around most people, only speaking when spoken too and a part of that sounds too obedient to her mind. No, she had never been an obedient citizen. Or daughter. One of her guns rested on her thigh, finger keeping it in place as she watched the abandoned cars and cold scenery drift by her window. This was going to be the longest car ride of her life.
