2011/09/06 • 04:19 0
date Thu, Sep 1, 2011 at 4:13 PM
subject 헬로우~
mailed-by hotmail.com
하이~ 조앤
언니는 오늘 처음 일하러 갔다 .
동네가 valley 근처인가봐.
친할머니 집근처라 주중에는
거기서 지내고 주말에 집에 올거다
한글 되니 넘 좋네….
좀전에 너 한테 전화했는데 안받네
낼은 작은 삼촌 한국 간단다,,,,
이모는 자주 만나니?
김** 딸은 널 아주 좋아하나보네…
하루하루 시간낭비 하지말고 알차게 보내라
이제 한글 메일도 잘쓰네.
자주 소식 보내라,,
네가 보내준 유과 넘 맛있다,,ㅎㅎ
내 방에 숨겨두고 야금야금 하나씩 먹다보니
이제 다먹었다,ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
잘지내고 또 메일보내..오케
ㅎㅎㅎㅎ
아이 미스유~
엄마가 ~ 사랑해,
Filed under: life-without-art
2011/07/17 • 05:51 0
A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses. An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.
The extreme limit of wisdom, that’s what the public calls madness. The instinct of nearly all societies is to lock up anybody who is truly free. First, society begins by trying to beat you up. If this fails, they try to poison you. If this fails too, they finish by loading honors on your head.
The poet never asks for admiration; he wants to be believed.
Art produces ugly things which frequently become more beautiful with time. Fashion, on the other hand, produces beautiful things which always become ugly with time. Take a commonplace, clean it and polish it, light it so that it produces the same effect of youth and freshness and originality and spontaneity as it did originally, and you have done a poet’s job. The rest is literature.
When a work appears to be ahead of its time, it is only the time that is behind the work.
The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one’s preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizarre which seems inherent in them. Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.
I am a lie who always speaks the truth.
by Jean Cocteau
from this thing
Filed under: filed under
2011/05/31 • 22:33 0
been reading a bit lately. watching various things online. feeling even more irked about the “art market” than usual, but then things like this interest me. that’s all
FRANZ WEST, GAGOSIAN
Filed under: life-without-art
2011/04/12 • 05:54 0
Maybe I need to fold myself
into an unidentifiable shape
And trick you into thinking
That you know who I am.
Maybe I need to shrink
Or become invisible.
Maybe I need to make you
Fall in love with me or
Cook you a big dinner.
Maybe I need to wear
a different costume,
Something that fits
A bit better
Into your expectations.
Maybe I need to tell you a story
About how you and I are
Long lost siblings.
Maybe I need to be
a shapeshifter like raven,
and drag to you
among dry corn cobs
and string, messages
from our ancestors.
Maybe I need to be quiet
And unnoticed.
Maybe I need to have a few
Ribs removed
or eyeshadow
Permanently tattooed.
Maybe I need to wear
Higher heels or tell you
How great I think your
Last piece was
Over and over again.
Maybe I need to take care of you,
Medicate your sickness,
Or feed your belly.
Maybe I need to give birth
To a baby
Or learn how to perfect
My prayers
For your liberation.
Maybe my voice needs to be louder
My tits need to be bigger
My ass needs to be smaller
My hair smoother
My make-up more perfect
My ability to nod and smile at your
Astounding discoveries
More apparently clear.
Maybe I need to interrupt more,
Avoid standing to the side while you talk.
Maybe I need to flutter my eyelashes,
Or tilt my head to the side.
Maybe I need to work harder.
Maybe I need a college degree
Or better yet—
A fucking high school diploma.
Maybe I need to dodge bullets
Or stand up taller
Be more poised and prepared.
Maybe I need to toughen up,
Get a thicker skin,
Learn how to play with the big boys,
Maybe I need to be more predictable.
Maybe the things I say
That make you feel uncomfortable
Need to be cushioned with sugar
Or homemade mashed potatoes.
Maybe my questions
about rising body counts,
Genital mutilation, legal prostitution, foot binding,
White privilege, male privilege, young
People drugged, murdered, incarcerated,
The deeply interwoven lines of oppression,
Queer radicalism, dying buffalo, organizing
Communities, our shared identity,
torture, Palestine, femicide,
the disappeared women of Juarez,
the way I feel when I’m at a corner
waiting to cross the street
and I have to look down
in order to avoid
the inevitable lapping tongue
hanging out a car window
and what exactly you have to do with that,
the brilliant possibilities
of infinite gender expressions,
why more women
don’t paint murals,
the reality that none of us
escaped the messages
drilled into our childhood minds
as toxic and beautiful as they were,
rape as a weapon,
child soldiering,
human trafficking,
police murder,
the wealth of prisons,
and the poverty of schools,
the truth that
not being
a straight, white, man
still means
that a majority
of human beings
on the planet
must arm themselves,
the rising wall between
Mexico and the US,
Modern segregation,
21st century slave trade,
ICE as the new Gestapo,
How Jews need to say no
To Israeli apartheid,
White people need to wake up
from a privileged coma
and do a whole lot more
about racism in this country
than just vote for Obama,
men need to be allies to women
not silent objectors,
and hetero folks need to stop leaning
on their love of queer eye for the straight guy
and phrases like “I don’t mind gay people”
as if that’s their ticket into solidarity
and in some way prevents the daily murder
of queer and trans people everywhere,
the fact that there are more women
in my life
that have been raped, molested, or abused
than have not,
and why that’s not
just a coincidence,
how I weep and thrash against myself,
how my veins pulse with outrage,
so much so that I
don’t quite buy
the idea that change
will come without violence
and I just wanna say
fuck all the bullshit
and get down,
Filed under: could-very-well-be-called-music
2011/03/12 • 08:26 0
everything just feels absurdly inappropriate right now.
this place is crazy
Filed under: filed under
2011/03/03 • 05:56 0
you should come!
bling&platoon kunsthalle night flea market
sat, march 5th • 6pm
Filed under: filed under
2011/03/03 • 05:43 0
2011/01/20 • 05:04 0
it’s thursday night. it’s -14°C outside and i’m sitting here on my 23°C heated floors having a student-gifted slice of white chocolate n green tea cake.
things could be worse.
for raffa
Filed under: could-very-well-be-called-music
2011/01/07 • 07:05 0
