“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against losing control - of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.”
Elana Dykewomon, ”Notes for a Magazine,“ Sinister Wisdom #36 (Winter 1988/89).
I never really thought about how when I look at the moon, it’s the same moon as Shakespeare and Marie Antoinette and George Washington and Cleopatra looked at.
she’s a ten but the only things keeping her alive are a 527k word fic about her comfort characters, books, taylor swift and the one friend she has who has the same personality as her just in a different font
“Er….
Yes….
The moon was booked to appear in this poem,
But due to stress
and overwork,
Countless appearances in sonnets and haiku,
It’s going to be difficult to express how much
I like you.
It’s been holding it’s breath
And turning blue,
Once in a while.
Smiling for children,
Styling the tide.
Inspiring sex,
And suicide.
A backlog of allusions to deal with.
Feelings to justify.
It’s done very well for a lump of white rock,
With a peak time slot in the night sky,
Sharing top billing with it’s straight man, the sun, The best double act
in kingdom not come.
Mystified and delighted
With the interest shown
By painters
And writers
And people alone.
But at the last minute NASA phoned
And bumped up the residuals,
So your poem’s been postponed.
I’m sorry.”
social media has really warped our perception of creativity and hobbies. Stop doing things to post them. Just write. Just journal. Just sketch. Just read. Just annotate. Just sing. Just crochet. Just do the thing you’re going to do with the assumption no one will ever see or know you did it. Stop performing. Just enjoy it.
ALT
