out of bad habits
❝ Every word has consequences. Every silence, too. ❞

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Selected Essays  (via floriental)


"I must continue to follow the path I take now. If I do nothing, if I study nothing, if I cease searching, then, woe is me, I am lost. That is how I look at it — keep going, keep going come what may. But what is your final goal, you may ask. That goal will become clearer, will emerge slowly but surely, much as the rough draught turns into a sketch, and the sketch into a painting through the serious work done on it, through the elaboration of the original vague idea and through the consolidation of the first fleeting and passing thought". [x]


Storm time.


 Javier Canale

❝ Men always say that as the defining compliment: the Cool Girl. She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means that I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.
Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see these men - friends, coworkers, strangers - giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much - no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version - maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: ‘I like strong women.’ If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because ‘I like strong women’ is code for ‘I hate strong women.’)
I waited patiently - years - for the pendulum to swing the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, learn how to knit, pretend to like cosmos, organize scrapbook parties, and make out with each other while we leer. And then we’d say, Yeah, he’s a Cool Guy.
But it never happened. Instead, women across the nation colluded in our degradation! Pretty soon Cool Girl became the standard girl. Men believed she existed - she wasn’t just a dreamgirl one in a million. Every girl was supposed to be this girl, and if you weren’t, then there was something wrong with you. ❞

— Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn. (via maliafates)


In her absence I created her image: out of the earthly
the hidden heavenly commences.
Absence teaches me its lesson: If it weren’t
for the mirage you wouldn’t have been steadfast …
Then in the emptiness, I disassembled a letter from one
of the ancient alphabets, and I leaned on absence. So who am I
after the visitation? A bird, or a passerby amid the symbols
and the memory vendors?

—Mahmoud Darwish, from “In Her Absence I Created Her Image” (tr. by Fady Joudah), in The Butterfly’s Burden. Copper Canyon Press, 2006


Francisco de Goya - Saint Francis Borgia at the Deathbed of an Impenitent, detail. 1788


Rovina Cai

Mythical Menagerie


Marlon Brando with his cat at home, circa 1950s

❝ Mostly, I’m embedded in misery and freezing silence. ❞

— Franz Kafka, from Diaries (via kafkaesque-world)

❝ How do our lives ravel out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wearily recapitulant; echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-strings: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead gestures of dolls. ❞

— William Faulkner, from As I Lay Dying (Vintage, 1991, originally published in 1930)

❝ True affection is a body of enigmas, mysteries and riddles, wherein two so become one that they both become two. ❞

—  Thomas Browne


Le Corbusier, Book Dummy forUne Petite Maison”, (1954)

In 1954, Le Corbusier published the book, “Une Petite Maison”. In it, he describes the house that he built for his aging parents on the shores of Lake Geneva. It is above all about the act of dwelling, an essay on the poetics of space. As Gaston Bachelard explains in his book of the same name, “The act of dwelling arises infallibly as soon as one has the impression of being sheltered.” Le Corbusier’s book is a series of lessons on the poetics of shelter. They begin with the title and dust jacket. “Une Petite Maison” means not simply a quantitatively small house but especially a quantitatively small house. We sleep more soundly”, observes Bachelard in a “little house” than in a large one. The “little house” calls for reveries of coziness associated with miniatures. This cozy seclusion is even suggested in the cover where Le Corbusier has drawn a broad black band around it’s surface, thereby placing it in it’s own sheltered nest.

❝ I am so clearly conscious how little deserving I am. ❞

— Franz Kafka, from Diaries  (via kafkaesque-world)

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