alina pleskova

flotsam & jetsam, jolts, bric-a-brac, whatever catches--



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  1. July 26, 2014
    he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a ghost, he’s a guru (at The Mann Center for the Performing Arts)

    he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a ghost, he’s a guru (at The Mann Center for the Performing Arts)

  2. July 24, 2014

    (via michellepie)

  3. July 24, 2014

    "I believe I am choosing something now
    not to suffer uselessly yet still to feel." - Adrienne Rich, from The Dream Of A Common Language  (via fleurstains)

    (Source: violentwavesofemotion, via nogreatillusion)

  4. July 23, 2014
    martin-cj:

Julian Talamantez Brolaski, ADVICE FOR LOVERS

"…love is like, love is like falconry"

    martin-cj:

    Julian Talamantez Brolaski, ADVICE FOR LOVERS

    "…love is like, love is like falconry"

    (via anneboyer)

  5. July 18, 2014

    The wall hanging I never noticed | Dorothea Lasky

    I never noticed before
    How the red flowers hang from the blue branches
    I never noticed before the light in this room
    I never noticed the way the air is cool again
    I never noticed anything but you
    But you but you
    So that I couldn’t sleep
    I never noticed what was anything but you
    Until I noticed you
    And could not help it
    Until I noticed you I could not help it
    Until you made the red flowers alive again
    Until the blue branches
    The lemons you loved, but also the way you loved me, too
    Until all of this I never noticed you
    But once I did
    I never minded noticing
    I never stopped noticing
    Until I noticed you
    I never stopped noticing
    Until you, I never stopped

  6. July 17, 2014

    "Heterosexuality continues to this day to surprise me, the things men present to you as normal." - Dodie Bellamy | Pink Steam (via elanormcinerney)

  7. July 17, 2014

    Vanessa Veselka on the Lack of Female Road Narratives

    clockshopla:

    But there is no female counterpart in our culture to Ishmael or Huck Finn. There is no Dean Moriarty, Sal, or even a Fuckhead. As a fifteen-year-old hitchhiker, my survival depended upon other people’s ability to envision a possible future for me. Without a Melvillean or Kerouacian framework, or at least some kind of narrative to spell out a potential beyond death, none of my resourcefulness or curiosity was recognizable, and therefore I was unrecognizable.

    True quest is about agency, and the capacity to be driven past one’s limits in pursuit of something greater. It’s about desire that extends beyond what we may know about who we are. It’s a test of mettle, a destiny.

    image

    Ooh, I forgot about this. Still apropos.

    (via petitchou)

  8. July 14, 2014
    chelseahodson:

Inventory #560: And the Heart Says Whatever by Emily Gould
——-
REGARDING WIND
I try talking over the noise and it doesn’t work and I hold up my nails to better see the gold and I prefer to let other people make my decisions and if there is no voice I will say Hey and my heart may hear me and the gold under my nails looks like I’ve been digging and I keep the bones I find and this method is dependent on instinct and attention and the heart says What and I repeat myself. 

    chelseahodson:

    Inventory #560: And the Heart Says Whatever by Emily Gould

    ——-

    REGARDING WIND

    I try talking over the noise and it doesn’t work and I hold up my nails to better see the gold and I prefer to let other people make my decisions and if there is no voice I will say Hey and my heart may hear me and the gold under my nails looks like I’ve been digging and I keep the bones I find and this method is dependent on instinct and attention and the heart says What and I repeat myself. 

  9. July 11, 2014

    muscovite:

    I started journaling again, just to keep the lights on the writing sector of my brain. Follow along if you like.

    Once more for the morning crowd. xo

  10. July 10, 2014

    I started journaling again, just to keep the lights on the writing sector of my brain. Follow along if you like.

  11. July 8, 2014
    womanhouse:

from Lee Lozano: Notebooks 1967-1970

    womanhouse:

    from Lee Lozano: Notebooks 1967-1970

    (via karaj)

  12. July 7, 2014

    "I think when you are truly stuck, when you have stood still in the same spot for too long, you throw a grenade in exactly the spot you were standing in, and jump, and pray. It is the momentum of last resort." - From Speedboat, by Renata Adler. (via othersashas)

  13. July 7, 2014

    "My experience of narrative — particularly in New York City, where every approaching train cuts off every approaching thought, where the constant abrasion of the unknown with the insane desensitizes, so that I’m often left with white noise, and jagged notes from the digital world seep further into reality — is piecemeal. I had a friend who assured me that it was impossible to read certain books in the 21st-century city. Henry James, for instance. You need a quiet nook, she said. Otherwise, ‘before you’ve even finished one sentence’ — but she was cut off. I became fascinated with this idea of a patchwork approach. Certainly, it’s nothing new, but who did it well?" - In the Wake of Speedboat: On Renata Adler’s 1976 Novel by Eric Dean Wilson (via millionsmillions)

  14. July 5, 2014
    Sure is.

    Sure is.

  15. July 1, 2014

    "

    I’ve had this feeling before— of going out to get a poem, like hunting. The night that comes to mind is the night I wrote the earlier poem. I felt “…erotic, oddly / magnetic” like photographic paper. As I walked I was recording the details. I was the details, I was the poem.

    I am obsessed with culture. It’s my mental community, what configuration of art & art makers I belong with. Alone, I’m the culture of one. I’ve got my paintings, heroes, cult movies— any person who lives alone knows the situation of feeling like some kind of private museum. But, I also want to address my culture (some new, larger one out there which I suspect exists) which I begin by making work which violates the hermetic nature of my own museum— as a friendly gesture towards the people who might recognize me. I mean exhibitionistic work, really.

    " - Eileen Myles, from “How I Wrote Certain of My Poems”