My darling, you do whatever you think, and I’ll be there come hell, high water, or the complete force of Pinkerton’s detectives.
Even on your own free time you cannot manage to think the thoughts you want to, and escape from the army for a while. Everywhere you look you see barracks, jeeps, rifles, soldiers, insignias and everything that pertains to the army. You can’t get away from it. It’s like a horrible obsession.
I am very blessed to share a community with other men in the act of writing, and it is their respect and belief that I am also much aware of. I cannot outrage the community of my own identity.
I reached heaven and it was syrupy. / It was oppressively sweet. / Croaking substances stuck to my knees. / Of all substances St. Michael was stickiest.
Gregory Crewdson, an American artist renown for his elaborately staged photographs of small-town life, digs into the commonplace and familiar to find images that are haunting, surreal and—most agree—profoundly unnerving.
With a twist. The problem is people. When they come into power, no matter what, they do bad things. The paintings are generally about people in power, it doesn’t matter what country…
A google search of the word ‘vagina’ brought up something interesting today: this post from Esquire’s culture blog. Stephen Marche’s editor set him loose on Naomi Wolf’s forthcoming book Vagina: A New Biography, a task which might have been better saved for someone … Continued