retrophilia

"The first image he told me about was of three children on a road in Iceland, in 1965. He said that for him it was the image of happiness and also that he had tried several times to link it to other images, but it never worked. He wrote me: one day I'll have to put it all alone at the beginning of a film with a long piece of black leader; if they don't see happiness in the picture, at least they'll see the black."

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postscript

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Mon Rien Jour

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swaying while not thinking about anything but the sensation of sound that permeates the body and reverberates outward

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gems of the fictional past 

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ridiculous art-shoot with my bird’s nest hair and my sweet lil parakeet named Lily Briscoe

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Stanley Kubrick and Sue Lyon reviewing the script for Lolita 

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Digi-gift from my pop upon hearing that I'm taking tap. Need me a partner, an elaborate staircase, and a medic on-hand.

#nicholasbrothers #cabcalloway #jumpinjive #stormyweather #1943 #tap

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Hope Sandoval is all Veronica Lake-y

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Pablo Berger's Blancanieves

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My dog is more dog than your dog. Also, my Muskrat Ramble is more Muskrat Ramble than your Muskrat Ramble.

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I wish I was a Mole in the Ground

[squirreley]

“The very things that made me good at school — a talent for aligning with authority, or for knowing what it wanted; a capacity for self-­estranging self-discipline; an ability to use anxiety as a fuel; an ­overidentification with established codes — were precisely the things that might render me not a writer, not a poet.”

— maureen mclane, my poets (2012), or: how i begin to narcissistically over-identify with my dissertation adviser.

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dr. squirreley, teach me.

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Francesca Woodman

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One song for the rest of my life?