Reading Women (2012 - 2013), Carrie Schneider
- Rena reading Zadie Smith, Megha reading Edith Wharton.
- Flávia reading Clarice Lispector, Bianca reading Sylvia Plath.
- Evan reading Anne Lamott, Aura reading Maarit Verronen.
- Sara reading Miranda July, Sheree reading Angela Carter.
- Hsiao-Jou reading Fang-Yi Sheu, Heather reading Chris Kraus.
- Cauleen reading Gwendolyn Brooks, Molly reading Roseanne Barr.
- Sarah reading Zora Neale Hurston, Vicky reading Gloria Fuertes.
- Alyssa reading Patti Smith, Yala reading Susan Sontag.
- Whitney reading Terry Tempest Williams, Naomi reading Adrian Piper.
- Kelly reading Gabrielle Hamilton, Amy reading Michelle Cliff.
(Source: carrieschneider.net, via teacoffeebooks)
• 31 August 2014
At Barnes&Noble atheism is right next to Christianity
In suburban Georgia I can almost believe in God and His Grand Plan, everything built and rising up in exact carbon copy, mirror image of its blueprints. Blueprints of you and blueprints of me, carefully planned in thin, transparent cobalt and built to meet eyes across a room in the harsh winter of 2013.
////// I’m lying, I’m 89% atheist and the big bang was only a series of coincidences made to look like miracles.
Still, here, in ancient houses that should be demolished with all their walls have seen, someone speaks in a southern drawl and I can only think of yours,
not like festering ignorance spit out in rounded vowels below a steeple,
but more like a verse from Blue Like Jazz written in messy, slanted cursive across a future 89% atheist seventeen year old’s sketchbook because seventeen is hard and maybe God is the cure for it
In New York I am 100% atheist even though I’m still stumbling home drunk and writing poems about the miracle of human existence,
Like any of this matters, like the sky will blush pink in two hours and I’ll suddenly understand it all: central park sprouting through cement in the middle of the city, writing poems that no one ever reads, and also the meaning of life.
In a survey conducted throughout the city 99.4% of New Yorkers replied no when asked if they had ever prayed for love.
Probably, I don’t know,
I’m making it up.
If god exists here he probably sleeps through the seasons on cemented steps, wondering who he’s supposed to send feverish prayers to, feeling inadequate for not making Paul his back up, desperate, and could Judas maybe step in?
I don’t pray anymore either, but I’m not the one who halved oceans, and designed hands that built entire cities,
Just spent childhood sunny side up Sundays in church, fooled into thinking once that a man, The Most Important Man, loved me back – Oh, god, I’m sorry, let’s not talk about God.
Let’s talk about the tangled wires of the Tennessee mountains on the drive down, and how I didn’t think about miracles,
////// just imagined you on the passenger seat.
Back in Georgia we talk about ghosts,
I say I grew up catholic, which means I change channels when Ghost Hunters comes on and that I can’t look you in the eyes when we speak,
I’m looking when you say you’re not really religious,
and I’m looking away when I say I’m not really either.
• 21 August 2014
“Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on.”
— Immigrants. First generation. Ijeoma Umebinyuo. (via pettyhoe)
(Source: theijeoma, via twinkvogue)
• 27 July 2014
Love says it is not afraid of being unreasonable
But love can’t even pronounce the word unreasonable
and just keeps shuffling its limbs.
Love can’t even speak right.
Mouth gets so mad that love is trying to do all of the work
the saying of things, that should be just for me
you get the agendas, all of the rush and flash
But brain gets mad that mouth is doing the thinking
and mouth quits the talking
and love gets footing suddenly and just fucking takes off running.
Love doesn’t know shit about reason
can’t even shape the syllables right.
Love has all this speed under its feet
that it is without agenda.
Here, when I say love I do not mean love
but the feeling that it might exist.
That there was the potential.
• 11 July 2014
Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.
In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.
Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.
In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.
The third veil drops.
Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep
We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.
The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.
Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.
Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.
The sixth veil has dropped.
The seventh veil has dropped.
And Salome sat beside King Herod. And he swore unto her
“Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give to thee
unto the half of my kingdom”
And she smiled, and said
“Bring me the head of John The Baptist.
Punish the man who hurt me”
— Clementine von Radics (via freakingginger)
• 2 July 2014
"Well," I said, "If she brought me here to look at me, let her look at me," and as I said it, I knew it had already happened. How long had I been sitting on that bench? As I had been remembering her, she had been examining me. "Oh. She did already, didn’t she?"
"And did I pass?"
The face of the old woman on my right was unreadable in the gathering dusk. On my left the younger woman said, “You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.”
The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman
• 30 June 2014