1. theheartisalandfill:

    threelisabeth:

    REORIENT ALL YOUR FAILURES. DROPPED THREE MUGS ON THE FLOOR TODAY? DISASTER CHIC. WORE THE SAME STAINED SHIRT FOUR DAYS IN A ROW? GARBAGE CHIC. DIDN’T BRUSH YOUR HAIR? TAKING “ARTFULLY DISHEVELED” TO PREVIOUSLY UNREALIZED LEVELS OF GLORY. DIDN’T BRUSH OR WASH YOUR HAIR, FOR THE PAST, LIKE, WEEK? YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL MAGICAL PRINCESS OF THE FOREST, EMERGING BLINKING INTO A STRANGE URBAN LAND. FUCKED UP PAINTING YOUR NAILS? ABSTRACT AND INSOUCIANT. WHO CARES, LIFE’S WEIRD, YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL AND STRANGE CREATURE, W H A T E V E R

    kara j hashtag price tags

    love it. 

     

  2. "work your ass off to change the language & dont ever get famous."
    — 

    bernadette mayer, “experiments” (via fscottfitzgerald)

    Exactly

    (via mashatupitsyn)

     

  3. "one can study only what one has first dreamed about."
    — gaston bachelard, the psychoanalysis of fire (via batarde)
     

  4. austinkleon:

    1) “I had never had any desire to be a writer. I wanted to be a reader.”

    2) “One thing you discover in psychoanalytic treatment is the limits of what you can change about yourself or your life. We are children for a very long time.”

    3) “Fortunately, I never recovered from my education, I’ve just carried on with it. If you happen to like reading, it can have a very powerful effect on you, an evocative effect, at least on me. It’s not as though when I read I’m gathering information, or indeed can remember much of what I read. I know the books that grip me, as everybody does, but their effect is indiscernible. I don’t quite know what it is. The Leavisite position, more or less, is that reading certain sentences makes you more alive and a morally better person, and that those two things go together. It seems to me that that isn’t necessarily so, but what is clear is that there are powerful unconscious evocative effects in reading books that one loves. There’s something about these books that we want to go on thinking about, that matters to us. They’re not just fetishes that we use to fill gaps. They are like recurring dreams we can’t help thinking about.”

    4) “You can only recover your appetite, and appetites, if you can allow yourself to be unknown to yourself.”

    5) “That’s what a life is, it’s the lives you don’t have.”

    6) “I hope you read one of my books because it gives you pleasure or because you hate it—you read it for those sorts of reasons—and then you discover what you find yourself thinking, feeling, in the reading of it.”

    7) “You can’t write differently, even if you want to. You just have to be able to notice when you are boring yourself.”

    8) “Anybody who writes knows you don’t simply write what you believe. You write to find out what you believe, or what you can afford to believe.”

    9) “[I]f you live in a culture which is fascinated by the myth of the artist, and the idea that the vocational artistic life is one of the best lives available, then there’s always going to be a temptation for people who are suffering to believe that to become an artist would be the solution when, in fact, it may be more of the problem. There are a number of people whom you might think of as casualties of the myth of the artist. They really should have done something else. Of course some people get lucky and find that art works for them, but for so many people it doesn’t. I think that needs to be included in the picture. Often one hears or reads accounts in which people will say, Well, he may have treated his children, wives, friends terribly, but look at the novels, the poems, the paintings. I think it’s a terrible equation. Obviously one can’t choose to be, as it were, a good parent or a good artist, but if the art legitimates cruelty, I think the art is not worth having. People should be doing everything they can to be as kind as possible and to enjoy each other’s company. Any art, any anything, that helps us do that is worth having. But if it doesn’t, it isn’t.’

    Such a good read.

    (Update: my friend Mark Larson has a great AdamPhillips tag.)

    from adam phillips’ paris review interview. “you can only recover your appetite, and appetites, if you can allow yourself to be unknown to yourself,” and everything else, too. 

     

  5. "woolf often conceives of life this way: as a gift that you’ve been given, which you must hold onto and treasure but never open. opening it would dispel the atmosphere, ruin the radiance—and the radiance of life is what makes it worth living. it’s hard to say just what holding onto life without looking at it might mean; that’s one of the puzzles of her books. but it has something to do with preserving life’s mystery; with leaving certain things undescribed, unspecified, and unknown; with savoring certain emotions, such as curiosity, surprise, desire, and anticipation. it depends on an intensified sense of life’s preciousness and fragility, and on a heisenberg-like notion that, when it comes to our most abstract and spiritual intuitions, looking too closely changes what we feel. it has to do, in other words, with a kind of inner privacy, by means of which you shield yourself not just from others’ prying eyes, but from your own. call it an artist’s sense of privacy."
    — 

    joshua rothman’s new yorker essay on virginia woolf’s idea of privacy is the best thing i’ve read in ages. 

    It rings especially poignant in the context of her own conflicted inner life, from her exuberant appreciation of the world’s beauty to her intense capacity for love to the deathly despair of her suicide letter.

    (via kerryalaska)

    (Source: explore-blog, via kerryalaska)

     

  6. "distributing, creating, and destroying a multiplicity of vanishing points, brown makes a space in a closed room that will not place her under the economy of perspectival, that mode of gazing that historically consigned women to their house arrest."
    — andré lepecki in exhausting dance: performance and the politics of movement on trisha brown’s it’s a draw/live feed.  (via karaj)
     

  7. "don’t ask the same questions as everyone else."
    — nan goldin

    (Source: particleb0red)

     
  8. womanhouse:

    from Lee Lozano: Notebooks 1967-1970

     

  9. "in a way, i think about it as a frame and a project. coming back to what you were asking before—i think you were asking me this?—about performance, the book is the final factor, the sort of material product that has come from my working with and within a certain frame. but i feel like that really extended into a lot of different things, like poetry readings, romantic relationships, friendships—all those things were a part of it."
    — trisha low, bomb 
     

  10. on our two year anniversary, an email exchange from 7/2/12

    1. lg: what are you wearing for your dattteeee tonite?
    2. kj: i am not wearing anything fancy. i literally put no effort into my outfits. im wearing the same thing i wore on friday. its, like, a tube dress over a tight dress and gold miu miu heels. i think i wore this outfit all weekend actually.
    3. lg: dude, your no effort is probably the best theyve ever seen a woman in their entire life. its like a gift, really.