She was a mesmerizing storyteller, with an eye for the lurid detail and a sense for just how much to exaggerate. I had her repeat her stories over and over again, as children do. They were touchstones in a vast, confusing universe. Her experiences and those of our counterparts in Pine Valley roiled beneath the surface of my quiet suburban childhood.
"Keep your...keep your dick warm while I'm gone, then."
"Best of luck with your whole genitals."
"I have more fingers than orifices. That's true for both of us. For all of us, humanly speaking, when it comes to being embodied. More fingers than orifices."
"I try not to do anything that’s not paid anymore, because it’s really hard to justify your work when you’re doing things for free. People assume that what you do is very easy if you don’t ask for money."
Do you know what I am strongly
not about
? The entire motif of
Memento mori
in Western art history. You're familiar with the general premise, where supposedly Roman generals being fêted in the streets during a Triumph were followed about by servants whispering "Remember you will die", and then medieval artists picked up the theme and bunged a lot of skulls into their paintings.
Just a bowl of jam with some bread crusts tossed in
Sponge cake (sponge flavored) with four raisins on it
Honestly I think just a grapefruit-flavored soup with pistachios and rose petals on top for some reason?
Cake with two colors but no flavors
1. Instead of taking a clear-eyed view of your recent behavior, base your apology on how angry someone else is. The more upset they are, the more wrong you were. Conversely, if the person you're trying to apologize to insists that it's "not a big deal" or it "happens all the time," you can't have done something wrong. Remember, the goal of apologizing is to keep someone from being angry, because you're responsible for how…
I imagine Geach and Wallace in the lecture halls, in the libraries – the famous Radcliffe Camera at the Bodleian, maybe, not so different from the room where I read their work. They’re greedily soaking up Western literature. They’re searching for themselves, but they keep finding the same stupid story: a woman experiences a sliver of life, then kills herself because of a man.
MAN
: here comes the airplane!
here it comes! here comes the airplane!
BABY DERRIDA
: to pretend, you actually do the thing
you have therefore only pretended to pretend
It’s exhausting to be imposed upon, to be the always responsible party – to be, in essence, the parent in what is supposed to be a household of grown-ups.
