"When emotional data goes beyond practical questions (When will we break up? Does my job make me happy?), the result may become something unexpectedly beautiful rather than obviously useful: a portrait."
"Listen, I don’t think we’re going to rise
in gauze and halos.
Maybe as grass, and slowly.
Maybe as the long-leaved, beautiful grass …"
— Mary Oliver, from section 8 of “Gravel,” in The Leaf and the Cloud: A Poem (Da Capo Press, 2000)
His body isn’t even cold yet and the New York times has already put out a shameful article declaring Nelson Mandela to be an “icon of peaceful resistance”. News outlets around the Western world are hurrying to publish obituaries that celebrate his electoral victory while erasing the protracted and fierce guerrilla struggle that he and his party were forced to fight in order to make that victory possible. Don’t let racist, imperialist liberalism co-opt the legacy of another radical. Nelson Mandela used peaceful means when he could, and violent means when he couldn’t. For this, during his life they called him a terrorist, and after his death they’ll call him a pacifist — all to neutralize the revolutionary potential of his legacy, and the lessons to be drawn from it.
Don’t fucking let them.
"Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that’s when you get shooting stars."
— Vladimir Nabokov (via likeafieldmouse)
Michelle Tea, “The Beautiful”
a coke and a smoke as we roam the grey prarie.
what sentiment do I want to express at the end of our world,
a terriffic excitement as we prepare to exit america.
its many eyes america the hydra the milky stuffed beast the roast
beef sandwich of america.
i have no doubt we created it.
the absent truckers stitching the states together,
the moving monuments of this country. we destroy a little bit of
everything we pass.
the bomb tucked dearly into farm land.
rest stops, missing but a simple bolt of certain rage.
the wake of america at our tail oh we could kill it, couldn’t we.
america what shitty parents you were.
we have to run away again and again we keep coming back to see if you missed us
but you didn’t even know we were gone.
we write tell all books about our rotten childhoods
the bad food you fed us the coat hanger beatings
can i process my bad relationship with america,
can we go to couple’s counseling
can we sit down and talk about all this bad energy.
oh america i love you i just want to go on a date with you
and you won’t even give me the time of day
stuck up bitch— think you’re too good for me
america i could have anyone
canada london amsterdam is in love with me
but it’s you i want america. what could i do to impress you
i could write you an anthem but you have so many
fuck you america you’re just so emotionally unavailable
you act like it’s everyone else’s fault you’re just a really bad
communicator and you have serious boundary issues.
i think you’re really fucked up america
i think you’ve got a lot of problems.
i keep getting all these hang-up calls i know it’s you america you better cut the shit
i’m getting a restraining order. if america comes within 25 feet of me
i’m throwing her ass in jail how do you like that america?
you can dish it out but you really can’t take it america
you’re such a baby we’ve been together all these years and you still
won’t let me call you girlfriend
you act like it doesn’t mean anything.
i’m over it america i think you’re really self-loathing
you know i made you what you are today i think you forget about
that well you can just forget about everything america
you can just forget the whole thing
i’m going home
(submitted by ancientapes)
"We can navigate these difficulties of love — and enhance its joys — by grasping the significance of two great tragedies in the history of the emotions. The first is that we have lost knowledge of the different varieties of love that existed in the past, especially those familiar to the ancient Greeks, who knew love could be discovered not just with a sexual partner, but also in friendships, amongst strangers, and with themselves. The second tragedy is that over the last thousand years, these varieties have been incorporated into a mythical notion of romantic love, which compels us to believe that they can all be found in one person, a unique soulmate. We can escape the confines of this inheritance by looking for love outside the realm of romantic attachments, and cultivating its many forms."
(Source: , via explore-blog)
"i think i am too cautious. i am always afraid of someone being there one second, and gone the next. i’m always afraid of the decade-long lie i believed every minute it was told to me — i’m a suspicious, paranoid little thing nowadays and i wish i could take that feeling out of my gut and drown it in a canyon.
the thing is your heart doesn’t just close up shop. and not every love causes emotional pain. you are the sum of these experiences. and every breakup and breakdown teaches us something more. life doesn’t get progressively better, that’s a lie — it’s always up and down and there’s so much you can’t control. but YOU can get progressively better. you get better at knowing who/what you need/want.
one day there will be somebody — a friend, a girlfriend, anything — who you can hold without shaking and love without aching and then you’ll open up a little bit and love won’t be like fear anymore and sooner or later you will be eating lemon squares on a bridge with someone pretty who holds your hand at all the right moments. maybe not, but it’s funner to imagine that happening, or to believe in it. i do."
Maybe I enjoy it.