Category: language

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It comes down to an ordinary woman, 
in a Marshall’s running suit
gently opening a doorway to the extraordinary.

Oracle, Jacqueline Johnson

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the sensation of

being dirty in

body and mind

summer as a

time to do

nothing and make

no money. Prayer

as a last re-

sort. Pleasure

as a means,

Peanut Butter, Eileen Myles

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“We now call for a boycott of the organization including all programming and events, affiliation, and related projects.” Heard out and about in Miami.

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Merve Emre, in the New Yorker, on Freud’s ideas through many biographies.

An enthusiastic popularizer of his ideas, he imagined his audience as anyone who had not managed to turn “his wishful phantasies into reality”—not titans of industry or artists but ordinary people who longed for more than what they had. The act of attending to their substitutions—of fantasizing—provided a daily experience of creativity, surprise, humor, and interpretive activity. One needed to have only the “courage and determination,” Freud urged, to heed the minor poetry of the unconscious.

[…]

The greatest testament to the human sense of “oneness” is civilization itself, man’s “mastery over space and time” in the form of shared aesthetic and political projects—beauty, order, religion, nationhood.

Yet civilization had not “increased the amount of pleasure” that men could “expect from life.”

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It’s going to hurt for a while.
It’s going to have to.

[…]

It’s going to be hard
to end soon.

It’s going to wipe out
your entire wildlife.

It’s going to be remembered fondly, your heart
unable to keep its hands to itself.

[…]

It’s going to make your metaphors make you,
even if you don’t want to.

[…]

It’s going to cost you.

This Living, Amber Tamblyn in newyorker

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… and the radio love to love but my baby he loves to dance he wants to dance he loves to dance he’s got to dance

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Leaving the empty ache
That always follows when beauty goes

Finis, Waring Cuney

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Green. Varieties. Shades of. A name. A new deal. A proposal.

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chartreuse buds beading above moss
dappled shamrocks
fragrant healing of sage, laurel,
mint, basil, thyme, rosemary, myrtle
amid the tall wonders of juniper
pine, olive, pear
even the meeting of sea and river—
the sky, an intermingling of viridian and chetwode horizons, 
and cerulean clarity—
offers its green seafoam, 
its seaweed pats, 
the crocodile at the edge of a freshwater marsh
its teeth open gritted in green
against the backdrop of hunter rainforest
dripping in green

making life on a palette, Raina J. León

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From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
    Out of SPACE—Out of TIME.

Dream-Land, Edgar Allan Poe

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Poe on Netflix–Pale Blue Eye, The Fall of the House of Usher.

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Well did he mould her for beauty;
Gave her the wish that is brave 
          With understanding. 

“O Pan, avert from his maiden
Sorrow, misfortune, bereavement, 
Harm, and unhappy regret,”

Sappho

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« L’imaginaire de mon lieu est relié à la réalité imaginable des lieux du monde, et tout inversement. L’archipel est cette réalité source, non pas unique, d’où sont sécrétés ces imaginaires : le schème de l’appartenance et de la relation, en même temps. »

Glissant, (Philosophie de la Relation, 2009).