July 2011
56 posts
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thinking and feeling kanye
kj: omg im listening to ham again its so fucking stupid
ap: omg kara stop yourself
kj: like the actual dumbest
ap: hey i need to do some dishes while you are going through this
kj: go ahead
ap: okay i'll be back before long talk to you soon
kj: i will be here listening to ham
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whateverjeanne:
here’s just one more idea i had. about google+. will it help me streamline my dispersed and deranged interwebbings into a feminist epistolary novel? no. so, ok then here’s the better idea. gotothehall.com or just #gtth. it’s like tevs but meaner. finally. kara has good ideas a lot. i usually take them on as my own. that’s a feminist thing. #dealwithit. also michelle tea...
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whateverjeanne:
i’m sorry you never received my mix tape. it seems suspect though. does mail really get lost anymore? what you’re missing out on is an emotional rollercoaster starring the butchies, carrie underwood and bon iver. that’s one of my many irrelevant talents. putting things together that don’t belong. you don’t have to worry about being my soul mate after all. i sent that letter to...
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whateverjeanne:
dear feminists,
according to the interweb it will be 97 on friday. i have temper tantrums in the heat. that is bad for feminism. should we have the meeting in the dept where it’s icy cold? please advise.
sincerely,a pre-perimenopausal friend of yours
feminist collectivity is not about anger, but it is about invoking hysteria, the essentialized female body, feminine frailty,...
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jason reitman made me a marxist →
meltzer:
First: On my birthday, I went to go see Horrible Bosses all spaced out from a massage and hungover and fell asleep for the last 20 minutes or so of this movie and then kept forgetting to read the spoilers to see if they, like, actually killed their bosses or what. Zach’s Marxist take made me realize that it didn’t matter in the end.
Second: Zach Baron has a tumblr!!
i have no idea...
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for the dead
literaturecreep:
I dreamed I called you on the telephone to say: Be kinder to yourself but you were sick and would not answer
The waste of my love goes on this way trying to save you from yourself
I have always wondered about the left-over energy, the way water goes rushing down a hill long after the rains have stopped
Or the fire you want to go to bed from but cannot leave, burning-down...
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White Male '70s Bullshit: A Mixtape →
seanfennessey:
Here’s a new mixtape. Twenty-eight ’70s songs from white men mostly bemoaning their entitled existence. Hard to apologize for this. And yet.
all i want to do these days is listen to jim croce and paul simon and, most of all, harry chapin (kill me) (also this one and this one and this one—so real) and make other people listen to them, too, and i think i might even know why....
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so we were talking about "lust" by susan minot...
(via dominicancookie)
“After sex, you curl up like a shrimp, something deep inside you ruined, slammed in a place that sickens at slamming, and slowly you fill up with an overwhelming sadness, an elusive gaping worry. You don’t try to explain it, filled with the knowledge that it’s nothing after all, everything filling up finally and absolutely with death. After the briskness of loving,...
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meltzer:
An evening in celebration of Sassy with me and Kara, Elizabeth, Tavi, maybe Ira Glass?
shit, i think i promised to make a list of every cute band alert ever or something like that.
also, i like mm’s twitter pr.
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new mother
smalljoys:
A week after our child was born, you cornered me in the spare room and we sank down on the bed. You kissed me and kissed me, my milk undid its burning slip-knot through my nipples, soaking my shirt. All week I had smelled of milk, fresh milk, sour. I began to throb: my sex had been torn easily as cloth by the crown of her head, I’d been cut with a knife and sewn, the stitches pulling...
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