hallebooya

Woke up on the floor this morning at legats’ and moved to the couch, curled into a fetal position, couch conch. Had dreams about hiking through wintery woods. Legats cracked me up heartily first thing in the am and despite my mild hangover and mossy mouth i felt good about passing out on her floor. Went to tod’s this morning and ran into Andrea & Leah. Got to spend some quality time with A and she cracked me up. She told me about how she was walking in montford and saw the trolley drive by and was grimacing when she noticed a guy mooning the trolley, then realized it was her love at the time. “fucking stupid trolley…oh man that guy’s mooning the trolley…that’s the love of my life!!” Also that people ask her so often about her tattoos that she regrets getting them, and that people say “that must’ve hurt a lot,” and she’ll reply, “There’s worse things than physical pain.”

Emotional pain! Ouch forever. A thing about masculinity that Junot Díaz talks about is how inhumane the idea of “manhood” is, how it leads to men seeking their humanity through their romantic/sexual relationships with women, and how that’s complicated by legacies of sexism/sexual domination.

I feel like this resonates with me and some of my girlfriends. we talk about how some men need us so much emotionally, because they haven’t achieved enough intimate relationships with others where they feel safe being vulnerable. This can be draining on one partner, and the relationship, when one person has less loved ones to diffuse emotional untanglings with.

I tend to be pretty hyper-rational and in-my-head, to a fault, so I’m trying to be more “in touch” or present with how I feel. Making sense of chaos at an early age combined with whatever genetic proclivities has led me to be reason-centric as opposed to letting my being be the reason. As in, hey, it doesn’t make sense to be upset about this, so let’s just shut this upset thing down. Which works to a point, but can also lead to repression/unresolved emotional/psycho-spiritual habits. At least for me, I need to figure out how to deal with my temper/rage, but not sure how, aside from the aforementioned talking-oneself-out-of method.

Most importantly, I got to laugh a lot already today and I’m looking forward to more of that. always.

toddbarry:

Posters Designed by Greg Sutter. For sale at all shows. Click on venue name for tickets.  

8/15 - COLUMBIA, SC - Tapps Arts Center
8/16 - CHARLESTON, SC - The Pour House  
8/17 - RALEIGH, NC - Kings Barcade  
8/18 - RICHMOND, VA (LATE SHOW ADDED. Early show SOLD OUT.) - Gallery 5  
8/19 - ASHEVILLE, NC - Grey Eagle  
8/21 - NASHVILLE, TN - Exit/In 
8/22 - KNOXVILLE, TN (LATE SHOW ADDED. Early show SOLD OUT.) - Pilot Light
8/23 - ATHENS, GA - 40 Watt Club  
8/24 - ATLANTA, GA - Plaza Theatre

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin between my hands.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that is always turned to at twilight
and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.

louisedespont:

A CURATED SELLING EXHIBITION

22 June - 31 August 2012, New York

http://phillipsdepury.com/exhibitions.aspx?sn=EXNY0312

The green earth has yielded 
to everything yellow, gold, harvests, 
farms, leaves, grain, 
but when autumn rises 
with its spacious banner 
it is you that I see, 
for me it is your hair 
that separates the tassels.

I see the monuments 
of ancient broken stone, 
but if I touch 
the stone scar 
your body responds to me, 
my fingers recognize suddenly, shivering, 
your warm sweetness.

I pass among the heroes 
recently decorated 
by the earth and the dust 
and behind them, silent, 
with your tiny steps, is it you or not you? 
Yesterday, when they pulled up 
by the roots, to have a look at it, 
the old dwarf tree, 
I saw you come out looking at me 
from the tortured 
and thirsty roots.

And when sleep comes 
to stretch me out and take me 
to my own silence 
there is a great white wind 
that destroys my sleep 
and from it fall leaves, 
they fall like knives 
upon me, draining me of blood.

And each wound has 
the shape of your mouth.

--
Julia gave me this book for my birthday and I am loving it.