Monday, February 18, 2019

Bertolt Brecht, "Questions From A Worker Who Reads"

Caesar beat the Gauls.
Did he not have even a cook with him?

Sunday, February 17, 2019

Rejina Pyo SS 19

Rejina Pyo's SS 2019 collection is a breath of fresh air: vacation dressing that's not that tired ass late 70s-early 80s Italian vacation three-oranges-in-a-net-bag thing that's been rolling out every summer for the past few years.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Black excellence

Sunday, November 4, 2018

Jennifer Packer

Say Her Name

And Dreaming

For James III


 Yellow Roses

Monday, September 10, 2018

From Goethe's Venetian Epigrams

I fell in love as a boy with a puppet show;
it attracted me for a long time until I destroyed it.

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Peter Beste

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

"I'm not going to let you go so soon, and so embarrassingly soft."

I read a tweet earlier today that made me seek out a Nina Simone performance I'd never seen, which wrecked me, of course. "I do not believe the conditions that produced a situation that demanded a song like that."

Monday, April 2, 2018

Somewhere someone

"Is it enough...[t]hat we think of him sometimes/Sometimes and always, with mixed feelings?"

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Carl Phillips, "Steeple"

Maybe love really does mean the submission of power—
I don’t know. Like pears on a branch, a shaking branch,
in sunlight, 4 o’clock sunlight, all the ways we do harm,
or refrain from it, when nothing says we have to.... Shining,
everyone shining like that, as if reality itself depended
on a nakedness as naked as naked gets; on a faith in each
other as mistaken as mistaken tends to be, though I have
loved the mistake of it—still do; even now—as I love
the sluggishness with which, like ceremony or, not much
different, any man who, having seen himself at last,
turns at first away—has to—the folded black and copper
wings of history begin their deep unfolding, the bird itself,
shuddering, lifts up into the half-wind that comes after—
higher—soon desire will resemble most that smaller thing,
late affection, then the memory of it; and then nothing at all.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

You only ever love me when I don't talk back

I think this blog works best as a scratch pad or repository for whatever I'm doing or thinking or reading or eating - like all blogs, I suppose. So:

I bought a Vitamix and am in awe of its power and maybe more than a bit afraid of it. It's possible that I will never eat non-blended food again, though, so there's that.

Finally finally finally read Xenofeminism: A Politics for Alienation, finishing Gary Indiana's Resentment after it had been in my roommate's clutches for who knows how long, sloooooowly making my way through James McPherson's Battle Cry of Freedom, waiting for my copy of Gwendolyn Brooks' Maud Martha to arrive along with the James Baldwin children's book I ordered for my baby cousin, and every once in a while picking up one of the million magazines and journals I've piled up (Apartamento, Martha Stewart Living, London Review of Books, etc).

Meyer lemons are here and they are glorious.

Thinking about 2013-2015 and wondering why Tirzah never blew up.

I've been wearing acrylics and have come to the sad realization that if I am to practice playing music seriously again (and I want to be serious!) they'll have to go.
Maira Gall