Thursday March 26, 2015
From an email
“It’s okay,” you say. “I’ll be fine,” you say. “I know that you didn’t mean it,” you say.
None of us think we’re prejudiced. But we’re programmed to prefer what’s like us. But we’re taught that they are safe when they smell the same as we do, they are trustworthy if they speak our language and eat our kind of food.
I looked and it doesn’t check out. I am ashamed of the places where I am closed to difference. I am speaking this because I want to shine a light there, I want to say, “Look, I am a pretty progressive woman, but there are still moments where I am boggled by my own distaste for “difference”, where I am perplexed by my incapacity to understand!”
This is a quiet war cry from a red couch in a beautiful apartment in a towering house in the most expensive cities in the country.
Monday February 2, 2015
A tweet by @stgramophone
Hunters in the night, we roam open fields, crouched low, weapons poised.
We dance through the movements in the wild, past forgotten, precision amplified.
We take aim at the heart of time and we shoot, silent bullets, pew pew, into the clock.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, we lament, we celebrate. Yesterday, yesterday, we hang on the wall like a prize.
Keeping it still, keeping it the same as before. We threaten the passing moments with violent accuracy and unmatched speed.
We leave no place for it to hide, no bushes, no blades of grass, no silly wishes left to conceal.
We chew on the flesh of memory until our bellies ache from the midnight devour method.
Nothing is the same now. Nothing is better or worse or either when we don’t let it be.