March 2012
George R.R. Martin on writing women
George Stroumboulopoulos: There's one thing that's interesting about your books. I noticed that you write women really well and really different. Where does that come from?
George R.R. Martin: You know, I've always considered women to be people.
2 tags
Anonymous asked: why don't you post as often anymore? you used to post and reblog several times a day, and you don't anymore.
1 tag
For an Album, by Adrienne Rich.
Our story isn’t a file of photographs faces laughing under green leaves or snowlit doorways, on the verge of driving away, our story is not about women victoriously perched on the one sunny day of the conference, nor lovers displaying love:
Our story is of moments when even slow motion moved too fast for the shutter of the camera: words that blew our lives apart, like so, eyes that cut and...
“the frightening truth about desire” by Daphne Gottlieb
it’s on but i don’t know whether i want to be her, fuck her or borrow her clothes.
3 tags
1 tag
2 tags
Pigeon Manifesto by Michelle Tea
The revolution will not begin in your backyard because you do not have a backyard. What you have is a back door that shits you directly onto the streets of your city. What you have is a back staircase of wood that resembles splintered matchsticks. It trembles each time a bus rolls down Mission. What you have is a patch of concrete, a splotch of weedy grass clumped with trash, and this is not a...
1 tag
1 tag
Forever
by Jason Flatowicz
You said you’d never fall down the stairs again, so I tripped you, to remind you there is no way to control your destiny as long as I hold you back, and that’s why I flew away, giving you time to escape until it was time for us to meet again, and we will meet again, over and over.
“This morning, with her, having coffee.”
– Johnny Cash, when asked for his definition of paradise
2 tags
“A fire-eater named Mannix opens his mouth wide as he can and inserts a flaming...”
– Aimee Nezhukumatathil answering “Do you think poetry can have an effect on everyday speech?”
After I Die
Sell everything. Promise me an auction, an old guy hollering prices in a broken yodel, his voice so rough you’d swear he used to shuck corn with his throat. Better yet a yard sale. Strangers can finger bowls and coats and wonder why I ever bought them and whether they would like them any better marked a couple dollars down. Don’t let the quilt go cheap— Amish ladies in Iowa went blind stitching...
1 tag
1 tag
“To the first man, who I met by the Eiffel Tower my second week in Paris, when I...”
– Julia Maddera
1 tag
Everyone Knows the World is Ending
by Alice Fulton
Everyone knows the world is ending. Everyone always thought so, yet here’s the world. Where fundamentalists flick slideshows in darkened gyms, flash endtime mess- ages of bliss, tribulation through the trembling bleachers: Christ will come by satellite TV, bearing millennial weather before plagues of false prophets and real locusts botch the cosmic climate—which ecologists predict...
3 tags
2 tags
1 tag
Transformations
by Joy Harjo
This poem is a letter to tell you that I have smelled the hatred you have tried to find me with; you would like to destroy me. Bone splin- tered in the eye of one you choose to name your enemy won’t make it better for you to see. It could take a thousand years if you name it that way, but then, to see after all that time, never could anything be so clear. Memory has many...
1 tag
We will drink beer and look at Facebook and write poetry about llamas and make drunken YouTube videos of us walking through a snowstorm at night in a gated community in Massachusetts. We will shower separately and meet in bed. You will turn off the light and I will sit on the bed and a car will pass on the street and its headlights through the window will briefly illuminate your left eyebrow and...
1 tag
1 tag
The Case Against Google →
youmightfindyourself:
People don’t trust Google with their data. And that’s new.
Google is a fundamentally different company than it has been in the past. Its culture and direction have changed radically in the past 18 months. It is trying to maneuver into position to operate in a post-pc, post-Web world, reacting to what it perceives as threats, and moving to where it thinks the puck will be.
...
1 tag
1 tag
Anonymous asked: you're beautiful miss.
1 tag
starving myself two days in advance before going out for mexican and tequila.
Anonymous asked: That last response was beautifully written. I quit the flute a few years before you did with the piano, but felt exactly as you described. Nowadays I almost feel somewhat depressed when I want to play and I don't allow myself.
2 tags
Anonymous asked: you know piano? what do you play?
Scherezade by Richard Siken
Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again. How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running until they forget that they are horses. It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere, it’s more like a song on a policeman’s...
2 tags
“When your mother hits you, do not strike back. When the boys call asking your...”
– “Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls With Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair,” Jeanann Verlee
youmightfindyourself:
Fictional Futures and the Conspicuously Young
Excerpted from an essay by David Foster Wallace
Television’s greatest appeal is that it is engaging without being at all demanding. One can rest while undergoing stimulation. Receive without giving. It’s the same in all low art that has as goal continued attention and patronage: it’s appealing precisely because it’s at once fun...
The Hunger Games felt like a very sadistic film. Going to the midnight screening only helped to further confuse my understanding of the massive fandom behind it.
“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me...”
– Charles Bukowski
1 tag
I saw Bombay Bicycle Club live at The Forum, and right now I have too many emotions to coherently write out a post that is worthy of their show so..
it was just really, really lovely.
