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Grace Jones | Pull up to the Bumper [1981]
October 2010
18 posts
Art & Onanism
”It’s hard to talk about the good stuff when you’re living the good stuff. I don’t see life always through the eyes of a songwriter, and maybe I should because I’d write more songs. I have a tendency to live life and then feel upset because I haven’t played the guitar in a long time. It’s like not masturbating for a long time.”
- Martha Wainwright, The Guardian, 06 May 2008
Putting Yourself on the Map: Cartography & Poetry
What is mine, … the archipelago arched with an anguished desire to negate itself, as if from maternal anxiety to protect this impossibly delicate tenuity separating one America from another; and these loins which secrete for Europe the hearty liquor of a Gulf Stream, and one of the two slopes of incandescence between which the Equator tightropes toward Europe. And my nonfence island, its brave audacity standing at the stern of this Polynesia, before it, Guadeloupe, split in two down its dorsal line and equal in poverty to us, Haiti where negritude rose for the first time and stated that it believed in its humanity and the funny little tail of Florida where the strangulation of a nigger is being completed, and Africa gigantically caterpillaring up to the Hispanic foot of Europe its nakedness where Death scythes wildly.
And I say to myself Bordeaux and Nantes and Liverpool and New York and San Francisco
not an inch of this world devoid of my fingerprint
Aimé Césaire | Notebook of a Return to the Native Land
“What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don’t know and I’m afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want.”
—
- Sylvia Plath
afraid … and excited
“”
—
You, You, grab the reins.
Drink as much as you can and love as much as you can
And work as much as you can
For you can’t do anything when you are dead.
The motto of this poem heed
And do you it employ:
Waste not and want not while you’re here
The possibles of joy
“Cordelia: or, ‘A Poem Should not Mean, but Be,” | Veronica Forrest Thomson
(via postscriptpages)
“Last night when we talked he swore that he desired no one but me. I am in love with him, too, and so we let the issue lie in the background. Yet the menace of those wayward instincts is there, inside of our very love.”
— Anais Nin, Henry and June [p.4]
“Compose. (No ideas.
but in things) Invent!
Saxifrage is my flower that splits
the rocks.” —from ’A Sort of Song’, by William Carlos Williams
but in things) Invent!
Saxifrage is my flower that splits
the rocks.” —from ’A Sort of Song’, by William Carlos Williams
