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Archive for March, 2011|Monthly archive page
To: MEN (take note)
In east on 03/25/2011 at 7:23 pm
Manners are very important and actually knowing when things are appropriate. I always open doors for women, I carry their coat, I make sure that they’re walking on the inside of the street. Stand up when people arrive at and leave the dinner table.
Tom Ford
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On Beauty
In west on 03/24/2011 at 10:37 pm
He was bookish, she was not; he was theoretical, she political. She called a rose a rose. He called it an accumulation of cultural and biological constructions circulating around the mutually attracting binary poles of nature/artifice. —Zadie Smith.
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MFA Group Show
In east on 03/24/2011 at 6:17 pm
This spring semester has been thee most academically prolific semester of my life. I feel like I’ve surpassed my 10,000 hours. This Tuesday I am in a group show with 3 wonderful artists. Ya’ll should come see it!
Opens Tuesday March 29th with a performance piece by yours truly. Also, MY BIRTHDAY!
Closing Reception April 8th 5-9 PM. There will be booze.
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advice: don’t go to grad school when you work full-time
In west on 03/23/2011 at 11:44 pm
i have 88 pages of material to write over the next six weeks.
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For Elizabeth
In west on 03/23/2011 at 10:42 amRichard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor never really fell out of love with each other. Taylor kept the last letter Burton ever wrote to her before his sudden death in 1984 by her bedside.
The last day of March,
My darling Sleeping Child, …I am oddly shy about you. I still regard you as an … inviolate presence. You are as secret as the mysterious processes of the womb. I’m not being fancy … I have treated women, generally, very badly and used them as an exercise for my contemptexcept in your case. I have fought like a fool to treat you in the same way and failed. One of these days I will wake up—which I think I have done already—and realize to myself that I really do love. I find it very difficult to allow my whole life to rest on the existence of another creature. I find it equally difficult, because of my innate arrogance, to believe in the idea of love. There is no such thing, I say to myself. There is lust, of course, and usage, and jealousy, and desire and spent powers, but no such thing as the idiocy of love.
Who invented that concept? I have wracked my shabby brains and can find no answer. But when people die … those who are taken away from us can never come back. Never, never, never, never, never (Lear about Cordelia). We are such doomed fools. Unfortunately, we know it. So I have decided that for a second or two, the precious potential of you in the next room is the only thing in the world worth living for. After your death there shall only be one other and that will be mine. Or I possibly think, vice versa.
Ravaged love,
And loving, Rich
(1973)
ohMAAN 