/imogen binnie. nevada/
/imogen binnie. nevada/
A tall, fiftyish gentelman type wanders into the Irish history section, all but bumps into her, than takes off his hat and bows subtly but dramatically. His clothes are clearly expensive.
Pardon me, my lady, he says in this Upper East Side drawl or something.
Of course, Maria says.
He looks at the shelves for a second, then seems to catch himself. He turns to her and he says, Forgive me for saying so, but you are beautiful.
Aww, thank you, she says suddenly playing the sweet het girl.
Have you read all of these books?
He is being playful. Ugh. She mumbles a no and turns away, still smiling because what else are you going to do, explain patriarchy to this fucking rando?
/imogen binnie. nevada/
Bet kas tā par mīlestību, es prasu.
Kas tā par mīlestību, es prasu, kas ļauj paņemt sapņus, pabāzt zem siera spiedes un izspiest no tiem visu derīgo, un saprast, ka nekas daudz jau tur nesanāk no šitās nejēgas meitenes, nekāda labā manta jau nav. (..)
Jā, jo nejēga es esmu gan. Kaut esmu izlasījusi visas grāmatas saimnieka mājā un lielāko daļu no tām, kas atrodamas daktera skapī. Bet māte vienmēr teic, ka tieši tāpēc es esot muļķe – vai tad es domājot visu savu turpmāko dzīvi pavadīt lasot. Es neko neatbildu, es vispār neesmu no runīgajām (..). Vai tev acu nav, ko tu dari, (..), viņa saka. Acis man sliktas, un viens labums būs no šitās prombraukšanas. Ņemšu savu piena naudu un iešu pie ārsta, lai uztaisa man brilles. Kad ieminos par to agrāk, māte tik nogroza galvu – tā jau mans izskats liek vairāk vēlēties, un tad vēl brilles (..).
Es nekur nederu, tas jau ir skaidrs (..).
Es nekur nederu, esmu bieži savos sapņos (..).
/inga gaile. piena ceļi/
(..) If only they could get some sense knocked into them and realize – well, they need to realize many things. First of whitch, they aren’t gonna stay skinny for long. Metabolism is just like death and taxes, it’s gonna catch up to you one day. But that’s a minor thing compared to all the foolishness I see in them. (..) The list is plenty.
But I think the biggest misconception they got is with love. It’s always love this, love that. And don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with love. Isn’t it our love that got us into this whole mess in the first place? The misfortune of being born with too much love for people that society says we can’t love.
The issue I see, and when I see it, it makes me sad. It’s that these young queens – well, it’s not just the fem realness queens. It’s the banjee boys too, and the butch queens, and the lesbians. They think that love is going to save them. (..) So they get out on the streets, skinny as shit because they aren’t eating, and then they want to maintain that because they want to be fuckable. Because they think in order to find love, you first have to be fuckable. So they go out into the world thinking that if tehy find someone who will love them – because their mother couldn’t, because their father couldn’t, because ther god couldn’t – if they go out and finally find someone who can, then everything is going to be set right. (..) they don’t realize that all along, it don’t matter who you find to love you, that love isn’t going to make you feel anything more for yourself than you don’t already got.
It is about love, but different kind. A kind that you can only find and not substitute for. And I think it’s hard for them to realize. (..) And they go out looking for their Adam or their Eve, their other half, the other pea in the pod, or whatever you want to imagine it as.
I just want to shake all of those darlings. Love is great, it is. But it’s also so brief. Didn’t these kids ever learn that even in the Garden of Eden, someone betrayed the other?
/joseph cassara. the house of impossible beauties/
More silent than a fly in outer fucking space.
/joseph cassara. hause of impossible beauties/
you said. if it is meant to be. fate will bring us back
together. for a second i wonder if you are really
that naive. if you really believe fate works like
that. as if it lives in the sky staring down at us. as
if it has five fingers and spends its time placing us
like pieces of chess. as if it is not the choices we
make. who taught you that. tell me. who
convinced you. you’ve been given a heart and
a mind that isn’t yours to use. that your actions
do not define what will become of you. i want to
scream and shout it’s us you fool. we’re the only
ones that can bring us back together. but
instead i sit quietly. smiling softly through
quivering lips thinking. isn’t it such a tragic thing.
when you can see it so clearly but the other person
/rupi kaur. milk and honey/
Benson is sure that her smartphone is smarter than she is, and she finds it deeply upsetting. When it gives her information, she puts it close to her face, says, “NO,” and does the opposite.
I was jelous of the oysters. They never had to think about themselves.
/Carmen Maria Machado “Her Body & Other Parties/