October 19, 2014
"No, no, of course I take you seriously." (x)

"No, no, of course I take you seriously." (x)

October 19, 2014

turecepcja:

Lynn Skordal Avian Dictionary

"Avian Dictionary" is an artist’s book made from collaged chicken eggs nestled in a handmade box. It was purchased by the University of California San Diego and happily resides in their permanent collection.

I love this.

(via fuckyeahbookarts)

October 17, 2014
Jean Marsh playing awful people in movies is still perfection. (x)

Jean Marsh playing awful people in movies is still perfection. (x)

October 17, 2014
Neighborhood IGA:

$1.19 for a regular candy bar is bad and you should feel bad.

October 17, 2014
Friday News Bites: Animals! Marriage! Space! Oh My.

My latest newsy roundup at persephonemag.

October 16, 2014
"Wants" by Grace Paley, recommended by Dani Shapiro

recommendedreading:


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Issue No. 126

EDITOR’S NOTE


When I think of the work of Grace Paley—a woman who appeared in my life like a grandmotherly guardian angel when I was a lost twenty-something M.F.A. student taking my first baby steps—the phrase that enters my mind isn’t a particularly literary one: generosity of spirit. I met Grace when I was a freshman at Sarah Lawrence College, where she taught. And though she was my teacher of writing, Grace was much more than that to me. She was my teacher of life. How to be a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend, a concerned citizen? How to walk around in the skin of a writer—which is to say often anguished, easily bruised—and turn that sensitivity into a powerful lens? To study with Grace often meant arriving at her workshop only to be greeted by a note tacked to the door: Class canceled. Grace is in jail. Civil disobedience, the imperative to take action, the attempt not only to write the wrongs, but to right the wrongs, being an object lesson more important than any element of craft. Imaginative empathy has a hollow ring to it, when not backed up by actual empathy.

Grace’s sentences are identifiable a mile away. She packs more humanity, longing, regret, humor and pathos into the three pages that make up “Wants” than many doorstop novels, and yet the art is invisible. Her enormous control, her exquisite precision, are deployed entirely in the service of her characters’ internal lives. Her prose limns the boundary between worldly concerns (her nameless narrator mourns her failure to make good on her promise to children that she would end the war before they reached adulthood) and the heart, stripped bare, of this same woman who greets her ex-husband by saying, “Hello, my life.” Time is Paley’s subject in “Wants.” Time and its inexorable passage, its cruel beauty. Marriages fail despite the best intentions of flawed men and women. Children grow up. Wars continue to rage. The sycamore trees outside her window grow from saplings into their prime. Books are written that capture their place and moment, and yet time marches on.

In re-reading “Wants”—a story I know nearly by heart—what I know in a place beyond knowing is that Grace Paley’s generosity of spirit is what infuses every word of “Wants,” and indeed, each of her masterful short stories. And it occurs to me that perhaps generosity of spirit should be a literary term. If Grace Paley is still read two hundred years from now, as I believe she will be, it is that very spirit that will contribute to the timelessness of her work. Our circumstances change. We fail each other, we age, we die. Hope arcs gently, or not-so-gently, into regret. And yet, and yet our hearts continue to yearn until they stop beating. I’m sitting in a café as I write these words, and I can just about see Grace plopped down in the chair across the table from me. She’s wearing a big, nubby cardigan and she rakes a hand through her white halo of hair. I want to ask her what she thinks about all this, but I already know the answer. She shrugs, deflects, as if to say, What do I know? But there’s a glint in her eye, a depth of wisdom wise enough to know humility. And then, just like that, she’s gone.


Dani Shapiro
Author of Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life



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Support Recommended Reading


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Wants

by Grace Paley

Recommended by Dani Shapiro

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I saw my ex-husband in the street. I was sitting on the steps of the new library.

Hello, my life, I said. We had once been married for twenty-seven years, so I felt justified.

He said, What? What life? No life of mine.

I said, O.K. I don’t argue when there’s real disagreement. I got up and went into the library to see how much I owed them.

The librarian said $32 even and you’ve owed it for eighteen years. I didn’t deny anything. Because I don’t understand how time passes. I have had those books. I have often thought of them. The library is only two blocks away.

My ex-husband followed me to the Books Returned desk. He interrupted the librarian, who had more to tell. In many ways, he said, as I look back, I attribute the dissolution of our marriage to the fact that you never invited the Bertrams to dinner.

That’s possible, I said. But really, if you remember: first, my father was sick that Friday, then the children were born, then I had those Tuesday-night meetings, then the war began. Then we didn’t seem to know them any more. But you’re right. I should have had them to dinner.

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October 16, 2014

Cate Blanchett on her son {x}

Wait wait wait…. I want to see this movie.

(Source: filmsploitation, via fuckyeahactressesone)

October 16, 2014

iloveemmathompson:

EMMA THOMPSON:

I don’t really know how to thank the Academy for this. And if I try we’ll be here till Christmas, so I better get on. Before I came I went to visit Jane Austen’s grave in Winchester Cathedral to pay my respects, you know, and to tell her about the grosses. And I don’t know how she would react to an evening like this but I do hope, I do hope she knows how big she is in Uruguay. Profound thanks to Columbia Pictures and the lovely forms of Lisa Henson, Gareth Wigan, and Mark Canton for hiring a first-time writer. To James Schamus, for his rare intelligence. And to Sydney Pollack, for asking all the right questions like, why couldn’t these women go out and get a job? Why, indeed! And to the cast and crew, for being impeccable. To my friend and my teacher, Lindsay Doran, for being the single, most frustrating reason why I can’t claim all the credit for myself. And finally I would like, with your permission, to dedicate this Oscar to our director Ang Lee. Ang, wherever you are, this is for you.

Emma Thompson is my patronus.

(via fuckyeahactressesone)

October 14, 2014

(Source: artizan3, via cocoepapy)

October 14, 2014
"believing in yourself is not a luxury. it is where the wildness enters your genius. it is wanton survival and burning indifference to what and who you are not supposed to be. it is the deepest revolution possible, the arc and heft of the universe in one strategic thought; vital to the weight and will of your whole health. without your belief, you are a wilting born, a folding off into the corner of a sky hot with loss."

— nayyirah waheed (via lanerde)

(via cocoepapy)