Lynne Tillman articulating what I meant to say in my Adult Morning After
"I think what I love most about diaries is the presentation of a sensibility. Sensibilities actually shift in different times, and with a diary you can discern the sensibility of an individual who is an individual but also a product of his or her time and society. A diary represents that. It’s a recording in the moment. Diaries are about private thoughts, secret feelings. It seems people don’t believe in having secrets anymore. And that’s a whole other idea then, and what does that mean? I think we’re just beginning to deal with what that means."
“I love reading diaries in the morning. Sarah just gave me Virgina Woolf’s, and I’ve read Catherine Deneuve’s, and Anaïs Nin’s, and Sontag’s, of course. I love syncing time too. I will read the entries for the day we’re on right now; I love knowing what a person was thinking on the same day exactly a hundred years ago. In the morning I can’t do fiction or essays, but the way diaries are framed, I can access at them at any moment, and they still resonate or seem profound and are always relevant to what I am working on. It sounds hokey, but I do believe, especially for creative people, the words you read are so crucial to the rest of your feelings. Reading a diary in the morning will give me momentum for the rest of my day.”
We as a writing society need to bring back Girl Gangs Doing Shit Together in book series. The late 80s/early 90s was BOSS at that shit.
i think i read every book of every one of these series between grade one and three.
"The best thing you can do if you support reproductive rights is to force people to realize that abortion is common, and the most common abortion is a five-to-15-minute procedure elected early in the first trimester by someone who doesn’t want to be pregnant or have a child. It’s our job to say it’s O.K. if that’s the end of the story. It’s O.K. if it’s boring or not traumatic or if you don’t even know what it was."
— Merritt Tierce, "This Is What an Abortion Looks Like"
"Some writing doesn’t brush up against sentimentality as often as other writing. But whatever ‘bad’ edge your writing brushes up against, I think it’s important to touch it. You can always pull back from it, but at least you know where it is. It’s like when I was a dancer, we were always encouraged to fall in rehearsal, so that you could know what the tipping point of any given movement was. That way, when you did it on the stage, you could be sure you were taking it to the edge without falling on your face. It sounds like a cliché, but really it’s just physics — if you don’t touch the fulcrum, you’ll never gain a felt sense of it, and your movement will be impoverished for it."
on today’s episode of me having feelings, a series of tweets about “anti-rape nail polish.”
"Last year I abstained
this year I devour
which is also an art"
Margaret Atwood, Last Year I Abstained (via geometrysuicide)
"All of which is to say: leaning against other texts, thinking with other minds, letting another person’s writing (or art, or being) haunt you, inhabit you, inspire you, bother you, quite thoroughly, isn’t just a means of spurring one to produce thoughts or books. It’s also a wager about how deeply intertwined our consciousnesses may be. It is to wonder (as Henry James did, in his late novels), whether consciousness exists between us, in the air, rather than within individual minds. The wild and productive gambit of “leaning against” is that we’re not really leaning against others, but against a great throbbing consciousness, a soup of soul and mind in which we all share, even if that sharing is characterized by dissensus or a mirage of separateness rather than a blurry unity."
"Justice Ginsburg … sees her interests as ‘being herself,’ preserving her ‘dignity,’ and promoting her ‘independence.’"
Memorandum from Ron Klain for David Gergen, Justice Ginsburg: Performance Pitfalls (July 14, 1993).
(thanks for the submission, pleaseletthisurlbeavailable!)
"What do we flee when we retreat into metaphor? What scares us about primary noon? Kundera claims that ‘kitsch moves us to tears for ourselves, for the banality of what we think and feel,’ and I think our fixation with complication and opaque figuration has something to do with an abiding sense of this banality, creeping constantly around the edges of our lives and language. Perhaps if we say it straight, we suspect, if we express our sentiments too excessively or too directly, we’ll find we’re nothing but banal.
There are several fears inscribed in this suspicion: not simply about melodrama or simplicity but about commonality, the fear that our feelings will resemble everyone else’s. This is why we want to dismiss sentimentality, to assert instead that our emotional responses are more sophisticated than other people’s, that our aesthetic sensibilities testify, iceberg style, to an entire landscape of interior depth.”
- Leslie Jamison, “In Defense of Saccharin(e)” from The Empathy Exams
"It sounds like bedroom culture. It sounds like something a girl made in her bedroom. A girl’s bedroom sometimes can be this space of real creativity. The problem is that these bedrooms are all cut off from each other. So how do you take that bedroom that you’re cut off from all the other girls who are secretly in their bedroom writing secret things or making secret songs? I wanted the Julie Ruin record to sound like a girl from her bedroom made this record but then didn’t just throw it away, or it wasn’t just in her diary, but she took it out and shared it with people."- Kathleen Hanna in The Punk Singer
Sara Ahmed | Willful Subjects
Ingeborg Bachmann | Malina
"the houses are falling asleep, people are turning their lights off earlier and earlier, no one is awake anymore, entire districts are gripped by apathy, people aren’t coming to one another and aren’t leaving one another, the city is slipping into decline although isolated thoughts and erratic monologues still occur at night."
Ingeborg Bachmann | Malina (via elanormcinerney)