incorpóreo paseo del sol a lo umbrío
agua música en la sombra viviente
atravieso la afilada vagina
que me guía de la ceguera a la luz
bajo la alta cúpula sonora
en este colosal simulacro de nido
toco el vientre marino con mi vientre
registro minuciosamente mi cuerpo
hurgo mis sentimientos
her hips wiggled the tide
caught in jazz gravity
lordess of post-noel
hard cider sundays when
man numero uno put her
on planetary spin then pulled
her into orbit did smooth math
on boozed brunette in possession
of dangerous heels and such snap
rubbed bones lit a spark
over a vamp thawed icy december
outside her dress a magnolia
burnt at the rim silhouetted
against the solar flare that ribboned
from each electric pluck
duke robillard played chief
as grad students crowded
the bartender threw nickels
for last call and some south
american spanish upstairs
latin night stomped the twilight
frost into condensation that dripped
to a sidewalk freeze before the sun
went down and moon brought it to
a molasses beat and our girl
got salt and vinegar with
man number two a little rough
around the rest but with a
budweiser belly adequate for
maintaining centrifugal force
they wobbled a dancing eclipse
tightwire ostinato snow stragglers swung
open the front door and a winter
draught caught the duet mid temptation
tightened waist against waist
the hard dueled night dissolved at the hip
the loser blown back to infamy
which is to say all the way back
to the original syncopation
how ancient is anybody’s guess
but the ritual still sends moonquakes
shaking up our spines
what is the ethos of electronic dance music? full disclosure: most of it gives me a headache. what i see is mostly men standing on altars that may be a pedestal. in front of him is his equipment, his microphone, and before him are the masses, his proletariat, in a room so open and vast it could be a central city square. he is guiding there movements, they are cheering, he is speaking through rhythms and synthesizers and heavy, practically violating bass. his hand is a cursor. they haven’t marched on washington or but they fall down for their evita. aestheticized populism.
or with headphones in? impenetrable. a sometimes oppressively juggernaut of a beat, unrelenting. the type of pulse that would heartburst. batteries or at minimum required for the commute to and from work and during lunch breaks, for charging.
"If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that can not be surmounted by scorn."
— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (via ennuiaboo)
"I had not seen her for two years, and I saw her now, not as she was, but as she had been; I saw us both as we had been, because a mysterious Ezekiel had made the sun turn back to the days of our youth. The sun turned back, I shook off all my miseries, and this handful of dust, soon to be scattered in the eternity of nothingness, became stronger than time, stronger than the minister of death."
— The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Macado de Assis
what’s the balance between hope for/argument for the ideal and necessity for/argument for a contingency plan?
can guilt be bottomless (a rabbit’s hole/infinite doorways)?
should i “turn off” the news?
are works or art responsible for ignorant audiences?
is jealousy not a sympathizable emotion? more so than envy?
do you agree that universality is not only compatible with but necessary in order to provoke empathy?
what is the meaning of a tidal wave?
"A wine shop was open and I went in for some coffee. It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine glasses."
— A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
(Source: goodreads.com, via introspectivepoet)
"Unwilling to concede the negation of the other as the moment of its obliteration in a void, Hegel insists upon a “positive” remainder for it. Hence Hegel simultaneously validates the other as bearing a “positive” content while also functioning as the negative reflection of the self that in effect doubly jeopardizes the position of the other as such. With respect to the self, the other can be identified as an other solely in terms of its difference from the self, as a negation of the self, as that something that the self is not, what ever else the other may be. After the self is able to realize its negation as constituted in the other, the existence of this other is only valuable to the self as long as the self is able to suppress the other and turn inward and contemplate the determinateness of its own existence. In so doing the self, as per Hegel’s schema, is free to consume the other in itself by acknowledging the other’s newly known positive content and thereby grant the other a not so autonomous position of importance only in so far as this other has facilitated the determination of the self by virtue of its negativity. Yet again Hegel clarifies this secondary status accorded the other as it makes possible the determinate realization of the self. Hegel explains the other as an “alien power” that enables the movement of the self inward, towards itself, but only after its otherness has been consumed by the self, “within itself.”"
— "Hegel-Marx: The ‘Other’ Logic of Unproductive Labor" by Mrinalini Chakravorty