June 30, 2017

In thin clockwork cadence the exhausted splash of the waves is a sound that is a cold ribbon just existing in the massive heat. The delicate surf falls with the abrupt crash of glass, section by section.

Wyndham Lewis
The Childermass

Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again – the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world’s greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding

Saul Williams
said the shotgun to the head

mysteriously silent

June 30, 2017

Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

G.K. Chesterton
Alarms and Discursions

Submissive men, men who desire to serve as consensual slaves, are on one of the most difficult journeys in the world today, because they have rejected patriarchal privilege and embraced their own heart’s calling instead.

TammyJo Eckhart
At Her Feet: Powering Your Femdom Relationship

a great deal of pain

June 28, 2017

Making art is extremely difficult, requiring tremendous courage, enormous sacrifice, great risk… Knowing this, you nevertheless stand at the precipice and you leap into the abyss, into the arms of uncertainty. Open and alert, you respond sensitively to the world around you, and it causes you a great deal of pain and tremendous trepidation. But, of course, these are the natural by products of a closely examined life.

Carrie Mae Weems
How do you measure your life
School of Visual Arts commencement address

theirs for the taking

June 28, 2017

I’m not interested in being easy on the eyes
i want them to flinch, think twice before they reach out their callous hands to bruise.
i want to be a constant reminder to men that not everything is theirs for the taking.

for girls who aren’t interested in being easy on the eyes

28th June

Only a slight hangover this morning. Celebration of Jimmy Joyce’s 1924 letter to Miss Weaver regarding Bloomsday went well yesterday.

Talk of the great book’s opening with its mockery of the mass – which in turn reflects the Last Supper and Christ’s words: ‘Do this in memory of me’; so that the mass is an act in which the mystery of Christ is not just commemorated, but made present, living over again. All in that Martello Tower. Daedalus, Mulligan, and the Englishman Haines – a pun on the French la haine, ‘hate’ as the man is anti-Semitic and English – perched in the omphalos over breakfast –

Conversation touched on many subjects, including Flann O’Brien. Then, out of the blue, mention was made of Finnegans Wake.

How many people had read that book? God alone knows how many copies sold, but how many read? Published 4th May 1939, the ‘Wake’ has puzzled multitudes. Joyce, as we all know, spent a third of his life on this one book –

Read at age fifteen. Peedeel must confess that he approached this book, this incredible allegory of the fall and resurrection of humankind, with trepidation. He decided to read a small part each morning – while sitting on the lavatory, in actual fact – and consider its enigmas throughout the course of the day. Like Ulysses the main action occurs in Dublin and its environs (where the product of Guinness’s Brewery is the magic elixir of life, thus the immortal drink of heroes and gods) –

The book’s impact was (is) profound. We come to recognise the story as our own. Just as in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, where we follow the journey of a soul through the dreamlike landscape to the Throne of the Lord of the Dead, so here the voyager is not specifically this man or that, but Man, that is to say ourselves –

And this morning, clear away the empties: bottle of brandy, two bottles of wine, a torn cardboard outer of beer and eight pizza boxes. Oh what piggies we were, we were!

by heart

June 27, 2017

Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they’ll make your soul impervious to the world’s soft decay.

Janet Fitch
White Oleander