July 23, 2014

the only TED talk worth its salt


This is somehow both an exquisite takedown and the total perfection of the Ted Talk format, at the same time.

-Jody, BL Show-

May 22, 2014
You can’t trust/ weather and I looked like rain

Let Me Explain by Dora Malech

Spring, and the tulips urged me
stick to schedule, flower furiously.
I asked for mountains but settled
for some flood-buckled linoleum.
Air was the only sure thing
and even she put up a fight.
I called my eyes near-sighted,
my hands near misses, my arms
close calls, my face old hat,
my head a bluff and raised
my body, a wishing machine.
Stars, thanked. Days, numbered.
I wore a coat because you can’t trust
weather and I looked like rain.

April 4, 2014
The Mayor of the Block



Bliss Broyard remembers Gilbert Kelley, the homeless man who had lived on her Clinton Hill block: http://nyr.kr/1dU56Iq

“Fall came, and Kelley swept up all the fallen leaves from the many trees on our street. He did this whether or not people paid him. Many people did. We paid him five…

(Source: newyorker.com)

February 23, 2014

(via heyfunniest)

February 12, 2014
The undisputed king of New York

The undisputed king of New York

February 12, 2014

Combing the desert.

(Source: kellymagovern, via heyfunniest)

February 4, 2014


How Can The Heart Live?
by James Fenton

How can the heart live that loved once so well?
The body that knew love without deceit?
For I remember now I was not mad
Loving my bright unblemished luck
And finding a simple joy in what I had.

And I remember now I was not deceived.
The tongue…

January 21, 2014




(via witanddelight)

January 12, 2014
Nothing to do but move

This Inwardness, This Ice by Christian Wiman
This inwardness, this ice,
this wide boreal whiteness
into which he’s come
with a crawling sort of care
for the sky’s severer blue,
the edge on the air,
trusting his own lightness
and the feel as feeling goes;
this discipline, this glaze,
this cold opacity of days
begins to crack.
No marks, not one scar,
no sign of where they are,
these weaknesses rumoring through,
growing loud if he stays,
louder if he turns back.
Nothing to do but move.
Nowhere to go but on,
to creep, and breathe, and learn
a blue beyond belief,
an air too sharp to pause,
this distance, this burn,
this element of flaws
that winces as it gives.
Nothing to do but live.
Nowhere to be but gone.

January 8, 2014
Sweet world, you think, with no place for the tragic

Ordinary Heartbreaks by Michael C. Blumenthal

To think that we could have had an ordinary family life with its bickering, broken hearts and divorce suits! There are people in the world so crazy as not to realize that this is normal human existence of the kind everybody should aim at. What we wouldn’t have given for such ordinary heartbreaks! - Nadezhda Mandelstam, Hope Against Hope

The day dawns, and what to do with your one body?

At the door, there are no police. 

You are of no great danger

to the tribe you live among. 

Every crime language can commit

has already been licensed

toward some greater profit.

You look for a place for your rage,

the guile and pucker of it,

and only the faces of those you sleep with

are able to move you. Sweet world,

you think, with no place for the tragic

but your own house. So you make a mess 

wherever mess allows. Suddenly,

a loud rapping on the door rouses you

from your reveries. Someone you love

is coming to get you. Unshackled,

you move slowly towards the door.

You feel a revolution coming,

your own four walls trembling. 

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