Send Me A Letter

August 17th, 2010 § 5

Come down here and be my house monk. Course you can’t do that. Kids and all. And I am so much older than I used to be. I no longer look or feel very foxy, although god knows of course that I am a good-looking woman. Some things never change. I was watching Otis Redding at Monterey Pop, a time seemed to last forever, then. I don’t think I could bear to watch it if I didn’t, in some far corner of my dreams, think it could all happen again. Or never ended. Right, and Otis is not dead. He was twenty-five at the time of those incredible recordings. Twenty-five and bursting with a talent it’s hard to account for, with soul and good looks. Good moves. What if someone like that had lived?
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Love Your Hair

August 8th, 2010 § 2


My God, (oops) I hadn’t even heard of Mr. Deity until today, when I followed a link from Frank to One Good Move … and here you have it. Every Woman’s Life. In the Whole World. Okay, the Whole English-Speaking World. Guys, um, man up on the responsibility-for-self thing, ‘k? Thxbye.

{ fin }

Divine Hogwash

August 4th, 2010 § 3

eden

I believe you need to surrender the process to your Spirit, release resistance, allow yourself to come into alignment with your divine blueprint, and trust your internal wisdom to take over and inspire you to want the things that are healthy for you.  via Julia.

Whom I take to be a fucking lunatic, in that way so many women are, or try to be. Taking one side of female nature to the extreme and beyond: sweetness of heart, optimism, hopefulness.
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Lady Chatterley

July 6th, 2010 § 4

lady chatterlyI’ve been watching old movies late at night, bits of which come up again and again, as I flip channels and the movies are repeated. In this way, eventually I piece together a whole. Or actually look at the listings and, quelle horror, watch the thing from beginning to end. Which is not remotely as interesting, especially if you’ve gotten good chunks of the film under your belt.  Read the rest of this entry 

Late Afternoon 1967

June 26th, 2010 § 2

earthmusic“We are but a moment’s sunlight fading in the grass …” I was kneeling on the floor next to the big radio, weaving to the music. It was late afternoon. We had drunk perhaps foulest concoction ever, boiled dope tea, never to do so again. But the stoned-ness, ah, the stoned-ness. The extent to which one was stoned, the way in which one knew oneself to be utterly, thoroughly, completely stoned, washed over me in that special dope way, a feeling of both sinking and rising at the same time, much as a feather might float this way and that upon the air.  Read the rest of this entry 

Women Are

June 14th, 2010 § 3

Society has let its girls down in every possible way. It has refused to assert—or even to acknowledge—that female sexuality is as intricately connected to kindness and trust as it is to gratification and pleasure. It’s in the nature of who we are. Caitlin Flanagan.

Who is just terrific. Reading her Atlantic archives has been like devouring a pan of fudge.

Real fudge. Starting from scratch, using a candy thermometer, beating it like hell. Grainy parts and smooth parts and watch out it doesn’t burn you—but it will. You greedy, joyous little fucker.

{ fin }

Don’t Go There

June 3rd, 2010 § 5

gaza

Here’s a question we Israelis won’t ask ourselves about the Palestinians, especially not about Gaza. The question is taboo. Not only won’t anyone ask it out loud, but very, very few people will dare ask it in the privacy of their own minds …

… The question we have to ask ourselves is this: If anybody treated us like we’re treating the people in Gaza, what would we do?  Read the rest of this entry 

Letter To The Moon

May 23rd, 2010 § 2

moonYou have to think about what you are writing for. To whom (though, granted, the internet might as well be sending letters to the moon, except for a few good friends and loyal readers) and … and … I was going to say, Why, but that’s the question hanging over everything, lately. And I’ve always tried to be entertaining.
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