Black and white, bedroom scenes, women caught in between movements: YES YES YES.
— On Joan Didion.
As a rule, the critics […] are far more cultured than the people whose work they are called upon to review. This is, indeed, only what one would expect, for criticism demands infinitely more cultivation than creation does.
This book: definitely on my list.
From RUSSH’s Everlasting Love issue. Writers were asked what “the one that got away” meant for them.
This was my favourite.
My heart still beats for this one.
Balenciaga F/W 2011-2012
I used to not celebrate my birthday at all, but now I had ONE FULL WEEK of crazy and intimate birthday celebrations, spent with some of the special-est (and not-so-special) friends and the family. Little surprises that happened this year during my week-long birthday celebration: a sweet stranger at Spadina station uttered the most sincere “Happy Birthday” I have ever heard and I have ever received from anyone; a live jazz band sang the “Happy Birthday” song to me, upon my friends’ request; and…me going dancing with the awesomest group of girls. The week-long celebration ended with a quiet sushi dinner (literally) with the family on Sunday (June 3rd).
I felt extremely grateful and happy and (insert cheesy adjectives that I don’t want to use) because for the first time ever, I felt that there are human beings who sincerely wanted to celebrate my birth/birthday with me. Also, for the first time ever, I felt satisfied because I was able to celebrate my birthday with all the people that I wanted to celebrate it with, albeit in separate days.
So now: twenty-two. Wishing it’ll be sensational.
Image taken from esse magazine.
I’m a generational anomaly in that I first glimpsed the erotic body not in images (Maxim, Wet Hot American Summer, nipples on Fashion Television), but in text. We did not have cable, nor were we allowed to watch movies rated so much as PG-13, and my father, swear on His Father, never once had porn in the house. But I had a library card and an imagination, and in the stacks of adult romance I’d hide and seek and read, and read and read and read, until a sneaking wetness told me I understood.
Speaking in Tongues, by SNP
I stopped being an avid visitor/reader of the website The New Inquiry, ever since I read this article about them/their club on The New York Times (personal reasons — don’t ask). However, a writer — whom I am guiltily obsessed with — wrote an essay for them recently (my favourite excerpt, above), so of course, I read it. And even though the subject of the essay is something that I am not particularly interested in, I still thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s the way this writer uses her words, I think, and the rhythm in her sentences that kept me reading. Her ideas, too (for this essay, as well as in general), are really interesting.
Go, read her stuff.