June 21st, 2012 § § permalink
Why is saving someone so appealing? Saving someone is like opening their life to a life you imagine is full of everything, full of you, full of nous. But saving someone means you can’t hold onto them. That’s not how it works.
You know that moment when you meet someone and then all of your time opens up? How does that happen? What was the time full of before? As easy as time comes, when that someone leaves, time also punishes you with gaping holes that you can’t seem to fill with anything that works. Everything you do is just a distraction, a physical distraction to the scenes in your mind, replaying moments, finding new moments to remember, to torture you with.
The honesty sheath has come back in my life. Things brought back from previous summers overjoy and sadden me. The intertextuality of all of my summers exponentially bifurcating. Every year is more sentimental than the next, having more summer memories to work into the new summer’s narrative(s). It makes me dizzy.
I should spend my time emailing people back that aren’t part of school or work, but people that I leave behind because they’re not “time sensitive” but want to talk to more than anything. I’ve been in Montreal for almost a year. I am lonely. I wish I was able to do “regular” things like going to a bar to have a beer or going for coffee or hanging out at someone’s house while everyone smokes and dies. Because that is what people I meet invite me to do, but I can’t, I just can’t. Those situations just create larger gaping holes in my/the container, but the kind that promote a dull ache everywhere. I want to spend my time listening to jungle, outside on a bike, in a lake, in bushes, with animals, in secret deep wells in the city, hiding in books someone is reading out loud to me!
Hi! Do you know my dear friend Barry (Boxcutter) released an album under the name The Host? You should listen to it, it’s good for moments like these. It fills you up softly.
I started belly dancing classes last week. Move, move, move. The instructor is this glowing blonde woman named Inka, and I get lost in staring at her and her full and energetic movements. She moves without having to move. She reminds me of that Miranda July quote I posted before, “I could not make a move without making love.“
February 3rd, 2012 § § permalink
“Suis-je amoureux ?”- Oui puisque j’attends.”
L’autre, lui n’attend jamais. Parfois, je veux jouer à celui qui n’attend pas; J’essaye de m’occuper ailleurs, d’arriver en retard; mais à ce jeu je perds toujours: quoique je fasse, je me retrouve désoeuvré, exact, voire en avance. L’identité fatale de l’amoureux n’est rien d’autre que: je suis celui qui attend.”
– Roland Barthes
Being in love is the best and most important feeling in the whole world. Nothing motivates unless I am in love. My friend D teases me about this a lot. Many times I will bring something or someone up to him and gush about how amazing and wonderful it or they are.
— “You think everything/everyone is amazing!”
— “No! I am so critical and judgmental! But I am also unabashedly in love with a lot, and want to express it as much as I can.”
Funny (sad?!) that most people think I am an ice queen, selfish, and unapproachable. Probably, because I’m sure I come off that way. Physical face-to-face interactions are weird. I never know how to be or what to say, so I usually just end up promoting myself as a spectacle. I am easily amused by myself, and so an adventure always follows me around.
I tan a lot. People have a lot of judgmental things to say about tanning. People have a lot of judgmental things to say about a lot of shit. HELP ME BE LESS JUDGMENTAL!
Oh, yes, back to being in love. Being in love is like this special sheath you get to wear and it gives you magical powers!
being able to see clearly and with the saturation on +10, having the ability to focus on all your work, having enough energy to do ANYTHING even if you haven’t slept because you’ve been making love for days, having beautiful skin because the blood is racing through your body constantly making everything glow, finding inspiration in everything, forming a world with your lover, seeing the world through their eyes…
I remember when I fell in love the summer of 2010 with my documentary project, before I even contacted anyone, before I even knew what it would become. I wanted to devote all of myself to it, and the love grew and grew and grew and I was so willing to give myself to it, willing to give all of my time, all of my energy to it, and it, in turn gave me so much of itself back.
Why did I not finish it? Why did I get carried away with my doctoral work as if that can be finished later? Why do I discard my work so quickly? FOLLOW THROUGH.
New loves again & again – disposable – New loves turning over make me full of unrequited love for the past, make me intensely sentimental and regretful for the past projects I was in love with and gave up because something else became more convenient. Now my shoulders slouch from the weight of the unresolved past, and my scoliosis keeps curving in. Moving on like this is never moving on, but stuck in all the places all at once, never being able to be in the ‘now.’ Like Erica Jong writes, “I look forward and see myself looking back.”
October 17th, 2011 § § permalink
&, 8mm, activism, ampersands, bathroom poetry, being famous, being in love, being inspired, being intoxicated, being real, boys on skateboards, bran van 3000, british accents, camembert cheese, camembert cheese on baguettes, capturing love on film, carl jung, cats, chemical reactions of love, classic literature, classical music, crying my brains out, denmark, dirty nyc hip hop, discosis, dreaming of dreams, drum n bass, early morning txt messages, ecko sweatpants, electro kisses, falling, falling stars, feeling alive, feminist desire, feminist representations, feminist theory, fragmented lines of poetry, fuck freud, ghetto fabulous, how european of me, ididnt meanto hurt you, indie porn, indie rock on vinyl, intellectual intercourse, kathleen hanna, kissy lips, le tigre, le tigre all day, living my so-called life, love, love letters, making love, margot tenenbaum, max fischer, men who dreamof love, mixtapes, ms dynamite, my freedom, my kitten, my pumas, my so-called life, nappy roots, obsessing, organic, picnics, picnics in high park, poetry slamming, poland, queering heteronormativity, quoting branvan3000 lyrics, radical feminism, radical feminist zines, regina lund, saul williams, scandanavia, scribbled notes on pillowcases, sex in bathroom stalls, sleep deprivation mood alteration, sonic youth, spinning records, state of emergency, staying up all night, strictly intellectual relationships, subtitled foreign films, sunday nights, sunlight on skin, swedish anything, swedish films, turntables, underneath it all, unsent letters, unshaven, vincent gallo, vinyl, your love cliche, zines.