I deeply enjoy housework. There’s something so soothing about it - having something and taking time to make it beautiful and neat. You don’t have to think about anything when doing it, either; everything is just poured into the simple act of scrubbing things away. It’s so easy to show compassion and care to objects.
2:29 pm • 15 April 2014
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit, he runs, wishing he could fly, only to trip at the sound of good-bye.
7:18 pm • 13 April 2014
I have a lot of fear today (that I’m going to chase a feeling and never find it), but I’m also calm. There’s equanimity in going nowhere, but momentum in longing. Lying in my bed, watching a grey day through my windows and listening to B&S. My parents are gone for the week, and for the first time in a while I fell asleep and woke up in total silence. Drank bourbon alone yesterday and danced with myself and sang to Vampire Weekend. I wasn’t even buzzed, I think I just wanted to do that. There’s a strange sort of language to being alone.
1:05 pm • 13 April 2014 • 1 note
I was bored in my government class the other day, so I picked up my teacher’s copy of The Radical Reader and started thumbing through the chapter on queer liberation. I started reading Michelangelo Signnorile’s passage on the justification of outing other queers.
"There is no ‘right’ to the closet. If you are in it, it is not by your own choice. You were forced into it as a child, and you are being held captive by a hypocritical, homophobic society. Now is the time to plan your escape… Stop sitting around blaming your parents, your school, the government, the media. Stop whining about your existence and wallowing in self-pity. Stop wishing yourself dead."
I came up to my teacher at the end of the class and told her that I thought Signorile was using a form of violence against queers, and that he is a violent person. She didn’t understand me, didn’t understand why it could be violent. That, among many things, is making me sad tonight.
8:55 pm • 29 March 2014 • 3 notes
Will you meet me down on a sandy beach? We can roll up our jeans so the tide won’t get us below the knees. Yellow hair, you are a funny bear. Yellow hair, you are such a funny bear. Slender fingers would hold me, slender limbs would hold me, and you could say my name like you knew my name. I could stay here, become someone different. I could stay here, become someone better.
8:20 pm • 29 March 2014 • 1 note
Roni Horn, If 1, 2011. Powdered pigment, graphite, charcoal, colored pencil, and varnish on paper.
10:22 pm • 23 March 2014
James Turrell, Meeting (from the portfolio First Light), 1989-90. Aquatint.
8:54 pm • 23 March 2014
Max Klinger, Yearnings (Wünsche), 1878/1880, etching and aquatint in black on chine collé.
8:21 pm • 23 March 2014 • 1 note