The lyrical state is a state beyond forms and systems. A sudden fluidity melts all the elements of our inner life in one fell swoop, and creates a full and intense rhythm, an ideal convergence. Compared to the refined culture of sclerotic forms and frames, which mask everything, the lyrical mode is utterly barbarian in its expression. Its value resides precisely in its savage quality: it is only blood, sincerity, and fire
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How long can you lick a wound before the taste of blood no longer scares you.
Sonya Vatomsky, “Spring Flowers,” from Salt Is for Curing
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All That Skate 2018 ⭐️ D A Y 1 : 👑 Yuna Kim “House of Woodcock”
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“That’s why high school, or a crappy job, or any other restrictive circumstance can be dangerous: They make dreams too painful to bear. To avoid longing, we hunker down, wait, and resolve to just survive. Great art becomes a reminder of the art you want to be making, and of the gigantic world outside of your small, seemingly inescapable one. We hide from great things because they inspire us, and in this state, inspiration hurts.”
— One of the best articles I’ve ever read. Rookie Mag. By Spencer Tweedy. (via wildyork)
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what's the most cancelable shit y'all do when ur not online
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Many of the patients whom he treated had, for one reason or another, learned as children to be over-compliant; that is, to live in ways which were expected of them, or which pleased others, or which were designed not to offend others. These are the patients who build up what Winnicott called a 'false self'; that is, a self which is based upon compliance with the wishes of others, rather than being based upon the individual's own true feelings and instinctive needs. Such an individual ultimately comes to feel that life is pointless and futile, because he is merely adapting to the world rather than experiencing it as a place in which his subjective needs can find fulfillment.
Anthony Storr, Solitude: A Return to the Self
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Lorna Dee Cervantes, “Valentine” (from From the Cables of Genocide: Poems of Love and Hunger)
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