Sep 30



My boyfriend broke up with me and my 80 year old, 5 foot tall, Indian grandmother told me that “there are lots of men…”

I thought she was then going to say “…in the sea” but she said “…they’re like flies” and made a disgusted face.

She hates flies.

I like the sound of your grandmother.

(via youneedacat)



May you find relief from the bad memories of your past that make you feel unworthy

May you find such relief that the bad memories of your past can no longer make you feel unworthy, even when you have the memories.

(via casualblessings)

Sep 29
“can we speak in flowers.
it will be easier for me to understand.”
nayyirah waheed, “other language” (via nayyirahwaheed)

(via wearethestory)

If you are female, expressing hatred for your own body is not just acceptable, it’s practically de rigeur. Failure to indulge in the requisite amount of self-flagellation – my thighs! my skin! my face! – isn’t just negligent, it’s unfeminine. Self-hatred is fundamental to how femininity is constructed, more fundamental than any of the more obvious external symbols (dress, make-up, shoes). What matters is not that you are beautiful, but you know your place in the beauty hierarchy (and since every woman ages, every woman’s place will eventually be somewhere at the bottom).

Young women are encouraged to bond over their dislike of excess body hair, surplus flesh and “uneven” skin. They are meant to do so in a jovial way, egged on by perky adverts informing them what “real women” do: worry about having underarms beautiful enough for a sleeveless top, celebrate curves with apologetic booty shakes and cackle ruefully over miserable Sex-and-the-City-style lunches of Ryvita and Dulcolax. It’s a gendered ritual; men get football and booze, women get control pants and detoxes. We are supposed, of course, to be grateful. Hey, you don’t have to be perfect! Just know you’re not perfect and act accordingly, with the appropriate levels of guilt and shame!

Fairy tale after fairy tale tells us that what matters is being beautiful “on the inside” but what does that really mean? It means submission, obedience and the suppression of one’s own desires. Don’t be haughty and proud. Clean the hearth. Kiss the frog. Love the beast. Suck it up when you’re replaced by a younger model. Sure, you may look fine, but you mustn’t feel fine. You mustn’t be vain. You mustn’t be angry. All fury and pain must be turned back on itself. That way you’ll be a real princess: silent, fragile and never threatening to challenge the status quo.

Glosswatch, Almost Famous, real women, and the normalisation of self-hate. (via nextyearsgirl)

(via wearethestory)

“Sing, mockingbird,
if you’re the one left to me,
your sultry pidgin
of east and west.
What have I ever asked for
but a word that began
and ended in the same place?”
Rachel Richardson, “Port: Naples,” published in Connotation Press  (via bostonpoetryslam)

“Trapped in one idea, you can’t have your feelings,
feelings are always about more than one thing.
You drag yourself back home and it is autumn
you can’t concentrate, you can’t lie on the couch
so you drive yourself for hours on the quiet roads
crying at the wheel watching the colors
deepening, fading and winter is coming
and you long for one idea
one simple, huge idea to take this weight
and you know you will never find it, never
because you don’t want to find it
You will drive and cry and come home and eat
and listen to the news
and slowly even at winter’s edge
the feelings come back in their shapes
and colors conflicting they come back
they are changed.”
Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems: Selected And New (via violentwavesofemotion)

“Without feelings perhaps you can feel like a god.” Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems: Selected And New (via violentwavesofemotion)

Sep 28
“I think that one of these days,” he said, “you’re going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you’ve got to start going there. But immediately. You can’t afford to lose a minute. Not you.” J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (via uglypnis)

(via velvetwebs)

Sep 27
“No writing is wasted. Did you know that sourdough from San Francisco is leavened partly by a bacteria called lactobacillus sanfrancisensis? It is native to the soil there, and does not do well elsewhere. But any kitchen can become an ecosystem. If you bake a lot, your kitchen will become a happy home to wild yeasts, and all your bread will taste better. Even a failed loaf is not wasted. Likewise, cheese makers wash the dairy floor with whey. Tomato gardeners compost with rotten tomatoes. No writing is wasted: the words you can’t put in your book can wash the floor, live in the soil, lurk around in the air. They will make the next words better.” Erin Bow (via observando)

“If you get stuck, get away from your desk. Take a walk, take a bath, go to sleep, make a pie, draw, listen to ­music, meditate, exercise; whatever you do, don’t just stick there scowling at the problem. But don’t make telephone calls or go to a party; if you do, other people’s words will pour in where your lost words should be. Open a gap for them, create a space. Be patient.” Hilary Mantel (via observando)

eating sweep arepas with aji sauce and queso fresco, reading poems, relaxing in a clean apartment, listening to some women sing from my collection of music, just very thankful and pleased to be alive (and be who i am) tonight.

“She’s like my name; I know there’s a time I didn’t have it, but I can’t actually feel what that was like.” James Bradley, “Finally, We Agree” (The Moth podcast)

(via sinimalist)

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