1. "The mechanical toy threatens an infinite pleasure; it does not tire or feel, it simply works or doesn’t work."
    — susan stewart, on longing

  2. "You are not an ugly person day to day. From day to day, you are a nice person. From day to day, all the people who are supposed to love you on the whole do. From day to day, as you walk down a busy street in the large and modern and prosperous city in which you work and lie, dismayed and puzzled at how alone you can feel in this crowd, how awful it is to go unnoticed, how awful it is to go unloved, even as you are surrounded by more people than you could possibly get to know in a lifetime that lasted for millennia and then out of the corner of your eye you see someone looking at you and absolute pleasure is written all over the person’s face, and then you realize that you are not as revolting a presence as you think you are. And so, ordinarily, you are a nice person, an attractive person, a person capable of drawing to yourself the affection of other people, a person at home in your own skin: a person at home in your own house, with its nice backyard, at home on your street, your church, in community activities, your job, at home with your family, your relatives, your friends - you are a whole person."
    — Jamaica Kincaid, A Small Place (via mangoestho)

    (Source: larmoyante, via mangoestho)


  3. (Source: todoelajo, via dirrtmirror)


  4. Last night I was reading something weird about how “culture and metaphor” can’t conceive of our mother’s genitals and that’s what gives men power? And now I’m thinking about alienation from labor and alienation from labor.

    Three years ago or something I went to a palm reader with my ex and she said I was an alien and something true about how my ex (who was sitting right there, rapt and eager) was crappy to me and I think she was the real deal. I like shrugged and smiled and nodded. I just had my last day at my job that that same ex works at too and I’m burning my first real bridge and it’s exciting and scary.

    Anyways I don’t talk to my mom a lot, but I might see her at the end of summer for my sister’s wedding. I was reading that thing at that same sister’s house in Harlem, both our beaus were out of town, and it was so nice to be there with her.


  5. I just deleted this from my paper because it won’t make any sense there without more work than I have time to do, but I though it was pretty even if it’s pretty embarrasing.

    For Mackey for me what mujic - with a hard j - might as well have sounded like or might have had to say is a quickening shout or gush from Moten’s jug’s impalpable void and the shout or gush was very critically that which was “mumbled otherwise under my breath.” The mumbled otherwise is a seep, a glee, the joy in the violent combat with the captor, a gag. 


  6. I posted that spencer screencap partly because i admire everything about troian bellisario, partly because i fiercely identify with the over achiever, the zealous worker, who is fraying always fraying because she’s terrified of what she is and has been capable of but is also capable of pathological loyalty and huge huge love, and partly because i’ve been feeling so fragile lately. Every thought that passes by me feels fraught with what I can’t do or might have done wrong and it’s making me work harder but at the same time i just needed to ask people to be nice to me, really nice, and to remember it’s nice to be nice and it’s ok to want that. Emily taught me that, gabi keeps showing me that, i’m really lucky and i’m ok. I just feel fragile, crazy, pressed for time, not enough. But like that plea is mine, and pll is so real.



  8. i have a lot to do tonight, i’m going to go get ramen and get ready


  9. "There is more to say about why withholding a lyric position might resemble — might be the very thing — that stands in: for the kind of organ speech: Bedient is writing about here. How the heart, in a T-shirt, is throbbing next to the body in the snow. How do you write into the history of bodies that don’t remain intact? That don’t get to: express? Perhaps the lack of affect is, in fact, an involuntary reversal of an ululation: the call from the body that is not: cried? A cry, that is, that is cut off before it exceeds the bodily position — to be received by others?"
    — Bhanu Kapil’s response to “Against Conceptualism” (via loneberry)

    (via dirrtmirror)


  10. skrmry:

    FKA Twigs | Two Weeks

    (Source: le0night, via terns)


  11. park concert cute apocalyptic !!


  12. metallurgies:

    we didn’t really speak
    my summer wants to answer

    the architecture doesn’t matter
    this is not my real life

    when I am here I want to know
    why do I believe what I was taught

    a storm is on the way
    close all the windows

    begin at the earliest hour
    is there a self

    Autobiography, Kazim Ali


  13. "Intimacy builds worlds; it creates spaces and usurps places meant for other kinds of relation. Its potential failure to stabilize closeness always haunts its persistent activity, making the very attachments deemed to buttress ‘a life’ seem in a state of constant if latent vulnerability. Even from this small cluster of examples and scenes it becomes clear that virtually no one knows how to do intimacy; that everyone feels expert about it (at least about other people’s disasters); and that mass fascination with the aggression, incoherence, vulnerability, and ambivalence at the scene of desire somehow escalates the demand for the traditional promise of intimate happiness to be fulfilled in everyone’s everyday life."
    — Lauren Berlant, “Intimacy: A Special Issue” (1998)

    (via aloofshahbanou)


  14. "For the future is the stage, that grand canopy that drapes and folds our most unspeakable desires, the stage that promises to dramatize our pasts, to enact them in such a way that we might begin to understand them, to touch them, to know them, to become intimate with them. Those pasts that we still have not encountered we label “ends” so that we might one day reach them. For we know there is no future that remains untouched by the whispering pass of our many pasts."
    — peggy phelan, the ends of performance

  15. i had orientation for my graduate program yesterday, i felt like such a dope. we went around and said our names, our interests, and our favorite food.  everyone had such to say. i said something stupid, but i don’t think it mattered except to me. “you deserve to be here” was important for me to repeat to myself, to write in my margins. i don’t know if it’s true, but it helped. i said “i’m aaron, i’m interested in the experimental potential of text and hip hop literature, and my favorite food is ramen.” it didn’t make a lot of sense, but it was fine.

    i enrolled in a class called “performance in ny” and a class where we’ll closely read freud for three weeks. i think performance in ny will be cute and a good fit, it’s taught by a young poet. i think the freud class will be good too, because i’ve never engaged like that with a text. and the fall and spring classes look really amazing.

    i didn’t impress my advisor, but i guess i didn’t expect to. i don’t care about being impressive really, but i’d like to be riotous or something. on fire. hopefully by class on monday i’ll have settled down enough to work hard and think hard, and i’ll remember that the project is more important than my nerves.