“For last year’s word belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”—T. S. Eliot, from Section II of Quartet no. 4 “Little Gidding”, in Four Quartets (with thanks to apoetreflects)
The enduring appeal of burlesque is no mystery. The mystery is that not everyone can do it — and some do it well enough, or long enough, that they enter legend. Here, a celebration of the art … Above: Burlesque star Mary Mack, circa 1950.
“But there should never be any apologies in art, or any overt attention-drawing in that way. What I felt I was doing was making my work as transparent as possible, without equivocations, without calling attention to itself, without apology. There’s a lot of conventions in the art world that are not to be transgressed, but my economy of means doesn’t abide by those strictures. There’s no reason to abide by them. I don’t have any vested interest in it.”—
“I would love it if people were more proactive in their own lives. I feel like the dumbing down of the American population has wreaked the liability of humans who are complacent and don’t ask questions.”—Mark Mothersbaugh
“You create yourself in ever-changing shapes
that rise from the stuff of our days—
unsung, unmourned, undescribed,
like a forest we never knew.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, fromRilke’s Book of Hours(translated by J. Macy and A. Barrows)
From the tawny light
from the rainy nights
from the imagination finding
itself and more than itself
alone and more than alone
at the bottom of the well where the moon lives,
can you pull me
into December? a lowland
of space, perception of space
towering of shadows of clouds blown upon
new ground, new made
under heavy December footsteps? the only
way to live?
The flawed moon
acts on the truth, and makes
an autumn of tentative
You lived, but somewhere else,
your presence touched others, ring upon ring,
and changed. Did you think
I would not change?
The black moon
turns away, its work done. A tenderness,
We are faithful
only to the imagination. What the
as beauty must be truth. What holds you
to what you see of me is
that grasp alone.
Everything That Acts is Actual by Denise Levertov (with thanks to whiskeyriver)
I’ve only got 15 minutes left until the end so I think it’s safe to say that Velvet Goldmine is a pretty terrible movie. Good soundtrack, terrible everything else. I’ve spent the last 13 years regretting not seeing a movie that is apparently not good in the first place. Fie!
Also I have a temporary job at a chocolate shop and got a commission to make 500 bows to go around the chocolate boxes. I have a box full of 50 yard spools of glitter ribbon and am pretty sure that my room, cat and self are going to be sparkly for the foreseeable future. It’s a good thing that I fucking love glitter.