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Showing posts with label jean genet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jean genet. Show all posts
Dec 19, 2012
Nov 26, 2012
beautiful day
i pulled on the shiny black pants i bought in new york. i pulled a sweater over my head that i made at the beginning of this year and have never worn. i stuck little pins in it. one that says R. MUTT and one that says I WILL CRUSH YOU. then, i went walking in the dark and in the cold. it lit up my lungs and skin. i feel a bit lighter in spite of myself, in spite of my arrogant pins.
i indulged in some much needed sweater-making time today. i sipped coffee and wrote. and last night after my last blog post i stayed up til 2am reading The Maids by Genet. i truly love that man's work. i love his ecstatic, passionate engagement with language. after i get further along in german, i'll dive in to french so that i can read his work in its original form. but The Maids... it is a dark, seething play. it spews the hatred that the poor of this earth often feel. it tells of the insanity that can grow from humiliation and degradation. it tells of the insanity that can grow from envy and subjugation. it tells of the insanity that two sisters can grow together if left alone together too long in too hard a world. it tells of the insanity we can encourage in each other when we stroke dangerous desires; the dire longing that reduces one to a state of abjection. or maybe it isn't insanity at all? i remember feeling the same way when i was very young and growing up poor. i remember feeling so much less than everyone else. my cousins and my classmates. our society encourages it. it's always been the case that we associate beauty with wealth. to be poor is to be ugly. to be poor is to be lazy and stupid. to be poor is to be lesser. or so the lesson goes. it took many years to root that lesson out. nevertheless, reading The Maids last night i could identify with that hard longing to be seen as an equal, to be valued for something more substantial than what clothes rest on my back. and the language of the play is absolutely stunning. cutting. Genet is as masterful at sarcasm as he is at poetics. i'm happy i stayed up late last night and read it. i'm happy i stayed up late last night and read! i plan to do the same tonight.
i went walking in the cold because i needed to buy a new notebook. one more notebook filled and one more to go (at least) before the end of the year finds me. i can't believe winter is already here. wasn't it just yesterday that i was braving these winds? did summer and fall already rush by? god, it's all been such a rush of image and breath and dance. such a flood of music and alcohol and laughter. i'm glad i took the time to write so much of it down.
i am so lucky to have crossed your path.
i indulged in some much needed sweater-making time today. i sipped coffee and wrote. and last night after my last blog post i stayed up til 2am reading The Maids by Genet. i truly love that man's work. i love his ecstatic, passionate engagement with language. after i get further along in german, i'll dive in to french so that i can read his work in its original form. but The Maids... it is a dark, seething play. it spews the hatred that the poor of this earth often feel. it tells of the insanity that can grow from humiliation and degradation. it tells of the insanity that can grow from envy and subjugation. it tells of the insanity that two sisters can grow together if left alone together too long in too hard a world. it tells of the insanity we can encourage in each other when we stroke dangerous desires; the dire longing that reduces one to a state of abjection. or maybe it isn't insanity at all? i remember feeling the same way when i was very young and growing up poor. i remember feeling so much less than everyone else. my cousins and my classmates. our society encourages it. it's always been the case that we associate beauty with wealth. to be poor is to be ugly. to be poor is to be lazy and stupid. to be poor is to be lesser. or so the lesson goes. it took many years to root that lesson out. nevertheless, reading The Maids last night i could identify with that hard longing to be seen as an equal, to be valued for something more substantial than what clothes rest on my back. and the language of the play is absolutely stunning. cutting. Genet is as masterful at sarcasm as he is at poetics. i'm happy i stayed up late last night and read it. i'm happy i stayed up late last night and read! i plan to do the same tonight.
i went walking in the cold because i needed to buy a new notebook. one more notebook filled and one more to go (at least) before the end of the year finds me. i can't believe winter is already here. wasn't it just yesterday that i was braving these winds? did summer and fall already rush by? god, it's all been such a rush of image and breath and dance. such a flood of music and alcohol and laughter. i'm glad i took the time to write so much of it down.
i am so lucky to have crossed your path.
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 26, 2010
luxury
.
the rain beats the roof. a storm covers our country. i have stolen the hours of this day for reading, spending the length of this day in bed with the gorgeous thief himself. jean genet is one of the most lyrical, beautiful writers i have ever read. he is not excessive or flowery, but abundant. a skilled lover. no touch is wasted. everything is necessary.
.
the rain beats the roof. a storm covers our country. i have stolen the hours of this day for reading, spending the length of this day in bed with the gorgeous thief himself. jean genet is one of the most lyrical, beautiful writers i have ever read. he is not excessive or flowery, but abundant. a skilled lover. no touch is wasted. everything is necessary.
.
Oct 29, 2010
quiet and happy
the sky is white and grey. it feels very close.
down low. close to the ground.
like a shamed dog.
i bought a bag of frozen blueberries and also Jiffy blueberry muffin mix. i saw the box and it reminded me of my mother- my mother when i was 5 or 6 years old, giving me the mixing spoon to lick, and me always dreaming so many dreams every single day.
i am reading Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal and, though i am only on page 42, i have already fallen in love with this man. something in his tempo... his temperament, the pacing of his words, his choices, carries an echo back to me. an echo i can't yet place. remnants of old dreams or memories or some kind of low, sad wish that has followed me in the decades since i was the sweet 5 or 6 years old girl. i did in fact wait for the first star every night. i made so many wishes. when i die, it will be interesting to go to wherever they are written down and learn them all again.
all these years later: blueberry muffins baking in my oven. i lick the mixing spoon clean. and the mixing bowl too. i can smell my little yellow darlings rising.
the day drizzles.
did you know tomorrow, we install the show? :) i am deeply myself in this moment, waiting to hang paintings on white walls.
down low. close to the ground.
like a shamed dog.
i bought a bag of frozen blueberries and also Jiffy blueberry muffin mix. i saw the box and it reminded me of my mother- my mother when i was 5 or 6 years old, giving me the mixing spoon to lick, and me always dreaming so many dreams every single day.
i am reading Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal and, though i am only on page 42, i have already fallen in love with this man. something in his tempo... his temperament, the pacing of his words, his choices, carries an echo back to me. an echo i can't yet place. remnants of old dreams or memories or some kind of low, sad wish that has followed me in the decades since i was the sweet 5 or 6 years old girl. i did in fact wait for the first star every night. i made so many wishes. when i die, it will be interesting to go to wherever they are written down and learn them all again.
all these years later: blueberry muffins baking in my oven. i lick the mixing spoon clean. and the mixing bowl too. i can smell my little yellow darlings rising.
the day drizzles.
did you know tomorrow, we install the show? :) i am deeply myself in this moment, waiting to hang paintings on white walls.
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