'Bedtime'. Nicole Parker. 2021.
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'Bedtime'. Nicole Parker. 2021.

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cure myself
I will walk by myself and cure myself in the sunshine and the wind.
— Charles Reznikoff, from “Autobiography: New York,” Poems 1918-1975: The Complete Poems of Charles Reznikoff (Black Sparrow Press, 1977) (via The Vale of Soul Making)
Fennel’s Wuthering Heights carries on that old imperial habit of touching a wonderful thing it does not understand and salivating with animal larceny impulse. This is the part that feels rancid to me: not merely that the adaptation fundamentally, egregiously misunderstands the novel, but that it misunderstands it in the precise shape of empire.
Take the outsider. Whiten the outsider. Take the violence. Aestheticize the violence. Corsets. Flower crowns. Latex. Softcore pornography in ribbons. Plunging necklines. Take the mud the dirt the miremuck of disgraced colonial history. Make it editorial. Make it swing flaccidly towards camp, yes mama boots the house down. Take the class rage. Sell it as background atmosphere, thoughtful addendum, glorious footnote of gold. Take the gaping racial wound. Disappear it. Call its absence “modern.” Then stand there, powdered and well-funded, asking why everyone is being so dramatic about the missing body.
jennifer cantwell, 2011
“the recording is of a blackbird in my garden in the north of scotland. the idea of the piece is that it's a letter home from a migrated bird, telling the family of its new life and making the connection between the migrant and the homeland.” - jennifer cantwell
The little people of the garden. 1922. Book cover.
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summer
1. make a syllabus for yourself - books, media, places, recipes
2. complete 40% of it
3. eat every fruit u can
Recently washed rugs being laid out to dry near Tehran, Iran. Circa 1972.
the thing about phone in bed is that it's so awesome. almost makes you feel like betraying & destroying yourself for nothing isn't all so bad
To die as much as necessary. […] To grow back as much as needed.
WISŁAWA SZYMBORSKA — Sounds, Feelings, Thoughts: Seventy Poems by Wislawa Szymborska, transl. by Magnus J. Krynski & Robert A. Maguire, (1981)
Are you a tummy ache girl or a headache girl? I’m both

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weird me out? no. you've weirded me in. let's merge souls
Still Life of Peaches by Henriette Ronner-Knip (1821-1909).
I’m really into devotion and adoration actually
hearts of darkness (1991) dir. eleanor coppola, george hickenlooper, fax bahr
A Sea-Port is a pleasant place for a soul worn out with life’s struggles. The wide expanse of sky, the mobile clouds, the ever changing colors of the sea, the flashing beams of the light-houses form a prism marvelously designed to gladden, without ever tiring the eye. The ships with their long slim lines and complicated rigging that so gracefully ride the swells, serve to keep alive in the soul a taste for rhythm and beauty. And, above all, for the man who has lost all curiosity, all ambition, there is a sort of mysterious and aristocratic pleasure in watching, as he reclines in the belvedere or leans on the mole, all the bustle of people leaving, of people returning, people who still have enough energy to have desires, who still desire to voyage, who still desire to get rich.
Charles Baudelaire, "Sea-Ports", Paris Spleen, translation by Louise Varèse

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Oh, bedrooms were made to dream in! And you know one can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables