don't be a loser
come
all right
don't come
whatever
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Rules for Being 24 or 42
Susan Sontag’s Rules + duties for being 24
1.Have better
posture.
2.Write Mother 3
times a week.
3.Eat less.
4.Write two hours a
day minimally
5.Never complain
publicly about Brandeis [University] or money.
6.Teach [SS's toddler
son] David to read.
Then, several weeks later, Sontag resolves:
DON’T
1.Criticize publicly anyone at Harvard –
2.Allude to your age
(boastfully, mock-respectfully, or otherwise)
3.Talk about money
4.Talk about Brandeis
DO
1.Shower every other
night
2.Write Mother every other day
Teri Carson’s Rules and Duties for being 42ish
DO:
1.
Say you do yoga even if you don’t so people can
shut up about it already
2.
Mother your pets only 3 times a day
3.
Eat less Nutella directly from the jar
4.
Write before you feel unbearable shame
5.
Never complain publicly about the size of your
date's penis
6.
Teach your nephews and nieces the difference between
your and you’re, and there and their
7.
Shave in the shower every other day otherwise
your bush will look like Chewbacca
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
LA Story: Encounter at the Melrose Trading Post
She wanted a satisfactory answer. Her face demanded it. I just wanted to be left alone and continue
looking through the bins.
“I don’t get it. Why?”
“I’m a story teller. I’m looking for stories.”
A blank skinny white lady stare: Not good enough.
“It could be anything. A face, an expression, a place, an
era...”
She offered an “OOOOK” to break her silence.
“It’s lives and stories in bins. I’m looking for something I
can’t define. I know it when I see it.”
I wait for a tiny bit of understanding. Nothing.
“I’m an artist. It’s a conceptual thing. Appropriation--”
She shrugged and walked away.
I continued looking through the bins feeling very happy I was born
me and not she. I am so lucky
I’m not like her, a human with a simple mind, unable to live, experience and connect on
different and more complex levels.
I stirred the heap of photographs, stuck my hand in and left
it all to chance. When I go back for more photographs, I will
take one of me and sneak it in a bin.
Maybe I’ll end up on some hipster’s wall.
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