“I know a lot of men are made uncomfortable by this monthly miracle. But not me. No, I embrace it. Embrace it the way the way some men embrace the weekend! Why I anticipate it the way a child anticipates Christmas!… That’s why the woman I shall love will be able to menstruate as fully and freely as she desires. Even if her monthly flow should build in intensity to a raging rust colored torrent! An unbridled river of life giving blood flowing from between her legs! An awesome cataract plunging off the edge of our couch. I wouldn’t be fazed! No, no, even if coureur de bois would come up stream, battling the rapids, and singing a ‘jaunty song’! I would take no offense, rather I would ford across that mighty womanly river, and fetch herbal tea and Pamprin. And then I would mop her brow and admire her fecundity.”
“Because it’s clearly a stroke of nefarious genius, a wickedly underhanded economic strategy to induce such levels of pain and depression and misery across the nation, to load us up on war and bogus fear and divisive hate and overlay it all with the sad, phlegmy truism that our own callous and cretinous government doesn’t give a rat’s tail about you, your children, the planet or humanity’s place in the grand scheme of the universe, to such a degree that a gross malaise kicks in and you feel as though your heart is being slowly ripped through your throat by a pair of rusty fireplace tongs, and you finally throw up your hands and say f- it and amble right out and willingly pay too much for a new couch and a car and some beer.”
Saw the pre-preview of this tonight. Amazing show, as always. Trinity can do no bad in my mind; even if the content of the show is not of my taste, the performances always make it worth it. This show was both: content and performance. I loved the open-endedness of the discussion; clearly, the writer was biased toward Sally Mann, but did not shy away from a balanced dialogue that acknowledged the complexities of the many issues surrounding her story. There are so many things in life I’m on the fence about; this play made me not feel the need to necessarily jump off onto one side or another; not that I didn’t ultimately (jump off), but I was not pressured by that whole silly dichotomous black-or-white right-or-wrong pick-a-side bullshit our culture loves.
This is a call to all people of all walks of life–our struggles are intertwined. We are all affected. We are all related, there is no denying that our pasts and our futures are connected. We are all indigenous.
We all have the tools to shape our future. We don’t have to create or invent, just remember, acknowledge, and share. Learn all you can, question all you can, understand, and stand up for what you believe…. Our liberation is the process of defining what freedom is to us.
My bed of nails, which needs a name and appropriate paint job, is finally done and was brought home today. It is 2 feet by 4 feet. Many thanks to my Uncle Hal, without whom none of this would have been possible.
“My guess is it starts with the usual combination, a personally customized admixture of regular, vigorous exercise, conscious food habits and minimal reality TV and great heaping doses of travel and nature and mental stimulation and truly excellent bedsheets, combined with absolute refusal to be fixed in time and place, to shrivel and hunker down and cling, as so many do, to one set of rules, one ideology, one notion of How It’s All Supposed To Be.
"Oh yes, also: Lots of regular sex and yoga and meditation and the best wine you can afford as you realize that this little blip of an eyeblink of a gift of a life races by just impossibly fast, and therefore staring too long at the future or the past, at expectation and longing, memory and regret only means you don’t get to truly experience the moment you’re in right now.
"Isn’t that the real secret? The simplest truth? Isn’t that what the gurus and wise ones have been saying since before Jesus was a tingle in the loins of God? To be so present, so hotly, divinely connected to the moment you are in that time loses all relevance and age means nothing and opportunity shows up exactly as it should, and the real accomplishment, the real sense of achievement comes from celebrating each and every breath like it was a shot glass of molten meaning?”
“Even more than in past years, we’re turning to the chemical industry for help in fortifying the American home against microbial invasion. Few go as far as Jacques Niemand, a reclusive Briton who was killed last May by fumes rising from vast quantities of disinfectant that he kept in open buckets around his house to ward off infection.”
“In domestic use, there’s the possibility that some antimicrobial products could induce disease-causing bacteria to evolve antibiotic resistance. Then, as they flow down the drain into sewers and beyond, significant tonnages can accumulate in the tissues of wildlife and people with potentially toxic consequences. And it could be that dramatic increases in asthma and allergy rates are related to immune-system distortion that comes from living in microbe-poor bubbles.”
“‘We had been talking to focus groups, and consumers were coming back and saying, "I’m clean enough.” We were stuck with this dilemma. But we turned it around and came up with [the ads’] premise: “You’re not as clean as you think you are.”’“
"Even if… you could manage to eliminate those 99.9 perecent of bacteria and viruses from your doorknobs, your computer keyboard, and the change in your pocket, you would still be carrying in and on yourself a community of microorganisms outnumbering – ten times over – the cells of your own body. Almost all of those creatures are either neutral or beneficial to you.”
“But the modern arsenal of purifying products… may be reducing contact between people – especially children – and organisms with which we’ve evolved and which our bodies need for healthy development. Not being ‘smart weapons’, antimicrobial products can wreak collateral damage on harmless and friendly microbes.”
As such, we risk perhaps the most vital and precious aspect of human understanding, our innate sense that everything is far, far more complicated and messy and juicy and fluidly interconnected, far more non-dissectible than we like to imagine, and in fact trying to dismember human experience into its drab components merely destroys the holistic integrity of the whole damnable circus.
He looked at her again from the raft, her slack stomach bent forward, her head on her knees. He saw her head lift and turn lazily towards the raft and he stood up then, stretching his body upwards, under what he imagined was her gaze. He dived, his body imagining itself suspended in air before it hit the water. Underwater he held his breath, swam through the flux of tiny bubbles, like crotchets before his open eyes.