…for his New Year’s resolutions? The following:
My 10 favorite are:
33. Wake Up And Fight
32. Make Up Your Mind
26. Dance Better
19. Keep Hoping Machine Running
18. Stay Glad
17. Don’t Get Lonesome
14. Listen To Radio A Lot
7. Drink Very Scant If Any
3. Wash Teeth If Any
1. Work More And Better
Franz Kafka did a portrait of me! Thanks, Franz. (Via Tin House) (And Kafka)
I have a sensation or sentence in mind and then I try to exhaust everything using that kernel (and with everything I primarily mean myself, but also our entire culture, it’s a futile idea no doubt). – Poetry Foundation
I’m not all that interested in ‘innovative’ poetry. To me it usually denotes a kind of high culture, high taste label. And also a sense of linear futurity that I think is not only boring but oppressive. I’m far more interested in the degraded and anachronistic, the trashy and the melancholic…In my mind art is very violent, but that’s not separate from the narrative. It’s in the very conflict within the artwork… – from 3:am Magazine Interview
In summation, from Dear Ra:
I’ve been confused when I should have been
reborn as a crusade or a hospital of innocents.
I’ve been bored when I should’ve been screwed.
I’ve been a hungry year.
Johannes Göransson. One of my favorite parts:
Do you think it’s easy to close a wound? To close the mouth of a wound?
There is only one way: to go into the mirror and explode.
Once I was in a production of the Duchess of Malfi
which we recorded at a shooting range.
I was supposed to be the killer but I was the virgin.
Was very passive in the shooting range.
Wow. Things got out of hand fast.
The woman who filmed me had a loud cackle
and she was very strong. I couldn’t move
I was so exhausted, but she wiped me off
with thinner and kissed me on the lips.
She tasted like bubble gum. I tasted like blubber.
B: there’s two kinds of voles
prairie and something else
One kind has really nice guy male voles, who take care of the kids and love their mates
Just all around good guys
The other kind of vole, well he is a real loner type
goes through female voles like they’re going extinct.
Turns out, mr nice guy vole of the two types
prairie and something else and I can’t remember which
is the nice one
but the nice one makes more oxytocin
and has more oxytocin receptors than the mean one.
me: i would take any class on natural history that you ever taught
Unknown publicly during her lifetime, she had barely graduated from college and then, suddenly, she was dead. (Many of her photographs were student assignments.)
…Her ploys often involve disappearance and emergence: she slips into the crack between a wall and a detached wooden mantelpiece, or she obscures herself behind torn pieces of wallpaper, or her bare legs jut out of a wall cupboard. “I am interested in the way people relate to space,” she once explained. “The best way to do this is to depict their interactions to the boundaries of these spaces.”
…The tension between her feeling of invisibility and her methodical exploration of self-revelation animates her art. She had only a moment, but for a photographer with her agenda, it was the right moment.
- Arthur Lubow, “Francesca Woodman Materializes”
Iowa Playwrights Workshop is my MFA/ one of the homes that shaped me most as an artist, and probably also as a human. Alan MacVey is an old friend and a mentor. Naomi Iizuka is an incredible playwright who told me to go to Iowa. And this is awesome. Guys, I’m so proud.
In celebration of the day of Swan’s landing on this earth (happy birdday!) we went to the Russian & Turkish baths. If you’ve ever wanted to sweat every toxin out of your pore while herds of giant men lumber past in towels, and other giant men beat each other with feather-duster-looking apparatuses in wet corners of dark rooms, you should follow in our footsteps immediately. We visited the baths on Giant Men Day, so look that day up before you go.
…somewhat like Santa Claus. Perverse and full of dangerous instincts. And definitely bearing gifts. “Wisdom from Aunt Jeff,” says Aunt Jeff, as I unwrap my present. I’ve known this kid since we were seventeen, restocking the shelves at CVS. He would push me around the aisles in a shopping cart. Later we broke into abandoned playgrounds late at night. As we grew older, we grew wiser. And Aunt Jeff grew into his bread-baking marathon-running nudist-commune ways. “Pants help no one,” Aunt Jeff says knowledgeably.
I logged in and noticed it was asking me all the deep questions.
I don’t know where, Facebook! DO YOU?