“‘Explore me’ you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognize myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.”
|—||Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body|
Everything is more beautiful
because we’re doomed.
You will never be lovelier than you are now.
We will never be here again.
The Iliad, Homer
We were talking the other evening about the phrases one uses when trying to comfort someone who is in distress. I told him that in English we sometimes say, ‘I’ve been there.’ This was unclear to him at first-I’ve been where? But I explained that deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope.
‘So sadness is a place?’ Giovanni asked.
‘Sometimes people live there for years,’ I said.
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
“So in the DSK rape case, we’re supposed to believe that an African immigrant housekeeper suddenly decided to have sex with a wealthy white man 30 years her senior for 3 minutes on a bathroom floor in the middle of her work shift. To believe this story, you must know nothing about race, class, power and rape.”
The Fresh Prince Created…
The Cat Daddy:
The Single Ladies Dance:
The Stanky Leg: