September 17, 2014
"Home and love are hard things for writers to have. Maybe that’s why so many writers pretend we don’t want them. I work alone. I live my work. I should have always lived alone. When I cohabited with G., I carved out “my space,” repeatedly, against the bleeding chunk of us. I travelled to empty myself. By exteriors, I was homey with him; by interiors, I was ravishingly single and alone, but still it wasn’t enough, because at night, after the worst fights, he curled himself around me until he was inside. Slowly, torturingly, I resented him. I wrote the best from furthest away.

Enjoying things and writing things don’t mix."

— Sarah Nicole Prickett, "How to Make Love in America" (via karavanderbijl)

September 17, 2014

adult-mag: @snpsnpsnp’s diary for the new book Women in Clothes is called What I Wore to Fall in Love, and is published in its best, unexpurgated version exclusively at adult-mag.com.

September 16, 2014
goddammit somebody already wrote my memoir

goddammit somebody already wrote my memoir

September 15, 2014
"The first thing I do in the morning is check my phone; because my phone is my alarm, it’s in my hand when I wake up, and I look at it right away. So sometimes the first thing I focus in is, like, a sale at West Elm, and sometimes it’s a stressful situation at work. But really, what emergency would be happening over email. So many fake emergencies! All it takes is one real emergency to remind you how many fake emergencies you have."

DCB: Dayna’s mornings: 

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Filed under: adult mag 
September 15, 2014
"You know how advice is - you only want it if it agrees with what you wanted to do anyways."

— John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent (via larmoyante)

September 13, 2014
bab(e/y) totem

bab(e/y) totem

September 12, 2014

jessieflux:

These girls aren’t wounded so much as post-​wounded, and I see their sisters everywhere. They’re over it. I am not a melodramatic person. God help the woman who is. What I’ll call “post-​wounded” isn’t a shift in deep feeling (we understand these women still hurt) but a shift away from wounded affect: These women are aware that “woundedness” is overdone and overrated. They are wary of melodrama, so they stay numb or clever instead. Post-​wounded women make jokes about being wounded or get impatient with women who hurt too much. The post-​wounded woman conducts herself as if preempting certain accusations: Don’t cry too loud; don’t play victim. Don’t ask for pain meds you don’t need; don’t give those doctors another reason to doubt. Post-​wounded women fuck men who don’t love them and then they feel mildly sad about it, or just blasé about it; they refuse to hurt about it or to admit they hurt about it—​or else they are endlessly self-​aware about it, if they do allow themselves this hurting.

The post-​wounded posture is claustrophobic: jadedness, aching gone implicit, sarcasm quick on the heels of anything that might look like self-​pity. I see it in female writers and their female narrators, troves of stories about vaguely dissatisfied women who no longer fully own their feelings. Pain is everywhere and nowhere. Post-​wounded women know that postures of pain play into limited and outmoded conceptions of womanhood. Their hurt has a new native language spoken in several dialects: sarcastic, jaded, opaque; cool and clever. They guard against those moments when melodrama or self-​pity might split their careful seams of intellect, expose the shame of self-​absorption without self-​awareness. 

I know these dialects because I have spoken them; I know these post-​wounded narrators because I have written them. 

— Leslie Jamison, “Grand Unified Theory of Female Pain” (via not-nai)

Excerpt from the final essay in Jamison’s early 2014 collection, The Empathy Exams. This… there is just SO much in here. 

I want to write a book about this essay. 

(Source: et--cetera)

September 12, 2014

st-south:

not yours I’m mine

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Filed under: st. south slacks music 
September 11, 2014
"Less winding staircase thoughts, more one-way street decisions."

A.Oliver: I want: 

September 10, 2014
"It looks simple: the glass vase holding
whatever is offered—
cut flowers, or the thought of them—

simple, though not easy
this waiting without hunger in the near dark
for what you may be about to receive."

Esther Morgan, “Grace,” from Grace (Bloodaxe Books, 2011)

(Source: apoetreflects, via nogreatillusion)

September 10, 2014

gabifresh:

take no shit 2014

take no shit september

(Source: gatissed, via emilywalks)

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Filed under: MERYL