we ignite when we're alone.
June 2013
29 posts
“what
massacre
happens to my son
between
him
living within my skin
drinking my cells
my water
my organs
and
his soft psyche turning cruel.
does he not remember
he
is half woman.” —from, nayyirah waheed (via meowjuana)
massacre
happens to my son
between
him
living within my skin
drinking my cells
my water
my organs
and
his soft psyche turning cruel.
does he not remember
he
is half woman.” —from, nayyirah waheed (via meowjuana)
“The old adage is true — writing is rewriting. But it takes a kind of courage to confront your own awfulness (and you will be awful) and realize that, if you sleep on it, you can come back and bang at the thing some more, and it will be less awful. And then you sleep again, and bang even more, and you have something middling. Then you sleep some more, and bang, and you get something that is actually coherent. Hopefully when you are done you have a piece that reasonably approximates the music in your head. And some day, having done that for years, perhaps you will get something that is even better than the music in your head. Becoming a better writer means becoming a re-writer. But that first phase is so awful that most people don’t want any part.”
—Ta-Nehisi Coates on the process of evolving your writing. (via thepoliticalnotebook)
“Upon our manhoods? I think not. Why would
You have us swear on those inconstant rods,
That change, like weathercocks, to ev’ry breeze?
They’re sometimes hard and sometimes soft; they are,
Betimes, the cause of trouble, and betimes
The cause of mirth. Their temp’rament can change
So fast, in fright or in cold water, if
They’re threatened so; or else become a rock,
So hard and awkward ‘til relieved. Of course,
I cherish mine, but somehow, no, they don’t
Inspire confidence in me as an
Eternal thing to swear upon; much like
The moon or tides, they change too much.” —Prince Trevor Amongst the Elephants (via fuckyeahgreatplays)
You have us swear on those inconstant rods,
That change, like weathercocks, to ev’ry breeze?
They’re sometimes hard and sometimes soft; they are,
Betimes, the cause of trouble, and betimes
The cause of mirth. Their temp’rament can change
So fast, in fright or in cold water, if
They’re threatened so; or else become a rock,
So hard and awkward ‘til relieved. Of course,
I cherish mine, but somehow, no, they don’t
Inspire confidence in me as an
Eternal thing to swear upon; much like
The moon or tides, they change too much.” —Prince Trevor Amongst the Elephants (via fuckyeahgreatplays)
