An effect, a cosmetic

I'm a little uncertain about this thing called certainty.

Keeping track of time, doing this kind of personal accounting, gives things context; it marks the passing of time not unlike the demarcation school enforced, where time was punctuated by semesters and summer breaks. When you mark time in chunks, you can name it — “it’s fall,” “I’m in my 40s,” we’re in the “aughts.” Shared vocabulary has value because then there can be conversation. Being aware of time allows for both an objectivity and a shared experience that weren’t there before.

What you actively spend time on, and (far more difficult) what you choose not to do, who you choose not to spend time with, and who and what you decide to say no to — what you choose, then — is how you mark time. And that is all there is.

A beautiful reflection on time by Liz Danzico. Pair with this fascinating look at how humanity has visualized the chunking of time over the ages

Annie Dillard captured this yin-yang of time best: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind people not knowing I’m gay, but I don’t like being thought of as straight — in the same way that I don’t mind people not knowing I’m a writer, but it would be awkward if they assumed I was an extreme skateboarder, because that’s so far removed from the reality of my life. But there is no blank slate where orientation is concerned; we are straight until proven otherwise. And if you’ve never seen how dramatically a conversation can be derailed by a casual admission of homosexuality, let me tell you, it gets awkward.”

My Life as an Invisible Queer (via feministlibrarian)

“Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.”

Mark Strand (via observando)

or just imagined all my worst fears in vivid scenarios while lying down with my eyes closed :(

“All those flowers that you never grew-
that you wanted to grow
The ones that were plowed under
ground in the mud-
Today I bring them back
And let you grow them
Forever.”

Bob Kaufman, from “(ALL THOSE SHIPS THAT NEVER SAILED)” (via sigh-twombly)

“I like missing you so hard because it makes me feel strongly that you are not a dream, you are real, you are living, and I’ll meet you again.”

– Simone de Beauvoir

He says ‘I don’t get it, why are you still a virgin at 24?’

He says ‘I don’t believe you, I’ve seen you walk, virgins don’t walk like that’

He says, ‘That ain’t natural, people are supposed to fuck.’

He asks ‘Why though? No offence though.’

I ask ‘When was your first time?’

He says ‘I was 12’

He says ‘I know what you’re thinking, that’s too young.’

I look at his knuckles, he has two good hands.

He says ‘She was older than me.’

I ask ‘How old?’

And he says ‘It’s better that the girl is older, that’s how I learnt all things I know’

He licks his lips.

I ask again ‘How old?’

He says ‘I could use one finger to make you sob’

I think of my brother in prison and I can’t remember his face.

I ask again ‘How old?’

He says ‘Boys become men in the laps of women, you know?’

I think of my mothers faced lined with her bad choices in men.

He says ‘If you were mine you wouldn’t get away with this shit, I’d eat you for hours, I’d gut you like fruit.’

I think of my cousins circumcision, how she feels like a mermaid, not human from the waist down.

He says ‘I’d look after you, you know?’

I laugh, I ask for the last time ‘How old?’

He says ‘34.’

He says ‘She was beautiful though and I know what you’re thinking but it’s not like that, I’m a man, I’m a man, I’m a man. No one could ever hurt me’.

– Warsan Shire, Crude Conversations With Boys Who Fake Laughter Often (via cactuslungs)

“The trouble with photography in general is that everything is interesting.”

Christopher Williams discusses his retrospective The Production Line of Happiness. (via moma)

“your name feels like rocks in my mouth
but I keep saying it because
cutting my lips on our memories
is the closest I can get to lying in your bed”

– Fortesa Latifi (via madgirlf)

I wish I could drink like a lady,

I can take one or two at the most.

Three and I’m under the table,

Four and I’m under the host.

Dorothy Parker

(via orplid)

“What are we doing to each other? Because I know that I am doing to him exactly what he is doing to me. We are sometimes so happy, and never in our lives have we known more unhappiness. It’s as if we were working together on the same statue, cutting it out of each other’s misery. But I don’t even know the design.”

– “The End of the Affair” by Graham Greene (via gotflavorlikeicecream)