love is a place
love is a place
& through this place of
(with brightness of peace)
yes is a world
& in this world of
Saint Crispin’s, Wholecut, model 546c
Zonkey Boot saddle oxfords from the SS 2012 collection. Welted by hand.
Monday, May 10, 2010, 4:33 AM
subject: Re: mp
of course tonight, because i had no one to talk to, i missed you just a bit more than usual. things with girlfriendofthreeyears, of course did not pan out as i’d hoped, but rightly so. too embarrassed to even talk to anyone about it. so here we are. or, really, here i am. i should delete all this shit soon.
Saturday, April 25, 2010, 3:36 AM
subject: Re: mp
dear moth’s powder,
we had trust issues. they were my fault. and, sure, i waited until too late – like now, like yesterday – to explain why. i’m sorry. but you’ve never had someone in an aol chatroom – someone with whom you didn’t even initiate conversation say to you – “you’re so ugly…please leave this chatroom.” it was the weirdest thing, all i could say in reply was “lol” … didn’t block the guy because i didn’t want him to think i was effected by what he said. years ago, of course, but clearly i’m thinking about it now. which is sad. and you’ve never had someone say, and truly believe them when they did, “i like you…a lot. but i’m just not attracted to you. i’m sorry.” sweet, how he cared enough to be honest and not malicious. but that doesn’t mean i wasn’t effected. it means that sex clubs and i have become quick friends, and when i feel appreciated, i indulge not necessarily the safest of behaviors. a bit of reckless abandon, a bit of self-deprecation.
this is what it means :: it means you wait after the bars and clubs have let out, when you’re alone and tipsy, and hope someone sees you, nods and talks to you, flirts with you. no one does, and though this is the reality you’re used to, you act as if it can still possibly happen. so you end up having fascinating conversations with homeless men and women that are looking for similar recognition, for someone to look into their eyes and affirm their humanity. and there is nothing you can do to change this. it is not that the men and women you encounter are not worthy of such communion, by the way. it just means that you question your own place in the world. or something like that …
ted stopped by me tonight, on the corner, “you’re so beautiful…say, um…do you have a cigarette?” and after giving him one, “look, it’s my birthday…i just want some weed. can you give me a dollar so i can get some…please?” it was the plea, as “please,” that made me amenable, of course. i gave him a dollar because i knew, even if it were not his birthday, that he wanted to feel good. and that’s ok with me…i was looking for the same thing.
but after i gave him one dollar, he said, “now you know weed costs more than one dollar! do you have five? please?” once i told him i had no more dollars to give, unfortunately – you know how i don’t carry money only cards – he kept it moving. no goodbye either. so as more folks walked by, i smiled with shy embarrassment. you wouldn’t have convinced me at 15 that i’d be here years later…waiting again. but i am. and i am. and so, this is my reality. i have all sorts of guilt for not telling you about shit like this before. but it’s too embarrassing to say out loud, to admit. so i write to this nothingness that is you with hopes that, somehow, some way, you’ll understand.
will you? can you? i hope…
”Often when I thus suddenly think of you I am dumbstricken and overpowered with emotion so that not for anything in the world could I utter a word. Oh, I don’t know how it happens, but I get such a queer feeling when I think of you, and I don’t think of you on isolated and special occasions; no, my whole life and being are but one thought of you. Often things occur to me that you have said to me or asked me about, and then I am carried away by indescribably marvellous sensations. […] Oh, my darling, how you looked at me the first time like that and then quickly looked away, and then looked at me again, and I did the same, until at last we looked at each other for quite a long time and very deeply, and could no longer look away. —
Jenny von Westphalen to Karl Marx [before they were married]
the politics of avoidance is the sustained look of and as love.
Man emancipates himself politically from religion by banishing it from the sphere of public law to that of private law. Religion is no longer the spirit of the state, in which man behaves … as a species-being, in community with other men. Religion has become the spirit of civil society, of the sphere of egoism, of bellum omnium contra omnes. It is no longer the essence of community, but the essence of difference. It has become the expression of man’s separation from his community, from himself and from other men - as it was originally. It is only the abstract avowal of specific perversity, private whimsy, and arbitrariness. The endless fragmentation of religion in North American, for example, gives it even externally the form of a purely individual affair. It has been thrust among the multitude of private interests and ejected from the community as such. But one should be under no illusion about the limits of political emancipation. The division of the human being into a public man and a private man, the displacement of religion from the state into civil society, this is not a stage of political emancipation but its completion; this emancipation, therefore, neither abolished the real religiousness of man, nor strives to do so. […] The decomposition of man into Jew and citizen, Protestant and citizen, religious man and citizen, is neither a deception directed against citizenhood, nor is it a circumvention of political emancipation, it is political emancipation itself, the political method of emancipating oneself from religion.
— Karl Marx
“On the Jewish Question” (1843)
“Thirty [years old]. And I was alone, had been for a while, and might be for a while, but it no longer frightened me the way it had. I was discovering something terrifyingly simple: there is absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was discovering this in the way, I suppose, that everybody does, but having tried, endlessly, to do something about it. You attach yourself to someone, or you allow someone to attach themselves to you. This person is not for you, and you, really, are not for that person - and that’s it, son. But you try, you both try. The only result of all your trying is to make absolutely real the unconquerable distance between you: to dramatize, in a million ways, the absolutely unalterable truth of this distance. Side by side, and hand in hand, your sunsets, nevertheless, are not occurring in the same universe. It is not merely that the rain falls differently on each of you, for that can be a wonder and a joy: it is that what is rain for the one is not rain for the other.”
— James Baldwin in Just Above My Head
(the absolute best crystallization if his writing…ever.)