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Feb 12, 2014
@ 5:12 pm
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FEMINAZI (Trailer)


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Feb 9, 2014
@ 9:52 pm
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from Feminazi: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love No Balls

from Feminazi: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love No Balls


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Feb 1, 2014
@ 2:30 am
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As a child I hungered for the love of my dad. I wanted him to notice me, to give me his attention and his affections. When I could not get him to notice me by being good and dutiful, I was willing to risk punishment to be bad enough to catch his gaze, to hold it, and to bear the weight of his heavy hand. I longed for those hands to hold, shelter, and protect me, to touch me with tenderness and care, but I accepted that this would never be. I knew at age five that those hands would acknowledge me only when they were bringing me pain, that if I could accept that pain and hold it close, I could be Daddy’s girl. I could make him proud. I am not alone. So many of us have felt that we could win male love by showing we were willing to bear the pain, that we were willing to live our lives affirming that the maleness deemed truly manly because it withholds, withdraws, refuses is the maleness we desire. We learn to love men more because they will not love us. If they dared to love us, in patriarchal culture they would cease to be real “men.”

In her moving memoir In the Country of Men Jan Waldron describes a similar longing. She confesses that “the kind of father I ached for I have never seen except in glimpses I have embellished with wishful imaginings.” Contrasting the loving fathers we long for with the fathers we have, she expresses the hunger:

Dad. It is a vow against all odds, in the face of countless examples to the contrary. Dad. It does not have the utilitarian effect of Mum or Ma. It’s still spoken as a ballad refrain. It’s a pledge that originates in the heart and fights for life amid the carnage of persistent, obvious history to the contrary and excruciatingly scant follow-through. Mother love is aplenty and apparent: we complain because we have too much of it. The love of a father is an uncommon gem, to be hunted, burnished, and hoarded. The value goes up because of its scarcity.

In our culture we say very little about the longing for father love.

Bell Hooks


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Jan 5, 2014
@ 12:00 am
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from Feminazi: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love No Balls

from Feminazi: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love No Balls


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Dec 28, 2013
@ 8:50 pm
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Hope has more to do with relentlessness and the interior life, than it has to do with optimism or a benevolent world


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Nov 18, 2013
@ 3:16 pm
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THE GENTLE EMPEROR by Alec Niedenthal

Dedicated to Alexandria Brown

On the Gentle Emperor’s birthday he wore his infinitely long robe. On most other days he wore a robe that was approximately thirty meters long. On his birthday his court selected two of the gentlest subjects in the Empire, one male and one female, to hold a private discourse with him in his royal atrium. This year, however, there were no gentle women to be found, so his court chose two males, Confillion and Dralillion, who were both well-educated adults. Confillion spoke first in the glimmering atrium. “Emperor,” he said, “I believe that the deputies with whom you surround yourself have conspired to render you less gentle. They want a less gentle ruler. We subjects are frightened at the prospect. Oh, Emperor, please challenge these deputies and become more gentle than ever!” The Gentle Emperor nodded his head in assent. The highest-ranking member of his court asked that Dralillion speak next. “Emperor,” he said, “I also believe that the deputies with whom you surround yourself have conspired to render you less gentle. Oh, Emperor, please remain gentle! Or even grow gentler than you have been in the past!” The Gentle Emperor nodded his head gratefully in assent. “I will be gentler than I have been in any past year of my life,” the Gentle Emperor declared from his gilded throne, wringing his fine hands. The Gentle Emperor’s many deputies escorted Confillion and Dralillion out of the atrium, their long pikes pointed at the two grateful subjects.

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Nov 1, 2013
@ 6:59 pm
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Manifesto of Futurist Cooking

Italian Futurism, father of numerous Futurisms and avant-gardeisms abroad, will not remain a prisoner of those worldwide victories secured ‘in twenty years of great artistic and political battles frequently consecrated in blood,’ as Benito Mussolini put it. Italian Futurism will face unpopularity again with a programme for the total renewal of food and cooking.

Of all artistic and literary movements Futurism is the only one whose essence is reckless audacity. Twentieth-century painting and twentieth-century literature are in reality two very moderate and practical Futurisms of the right. Attached to tradition, dependent on each other, they prudently only essay the new.

Against pasta

Futurism has been defined by the philosophers as ‘mysticism in action, by Benedetto Croce as ‘anti-historicism’, by Graça Aranha as ‘liberation from aesthetic terror’. We call it ‘the renewal of Italian pride’, a formula for ‘original art-life’, ‘the religion of speed’, ‘mankind straining with all his might towards synthesis’, ‘spiritual hygiene’, ‘a method of infallible creation’, ‘the geometric ,splendour of speed’, ‘the aesthetics of the machine’.

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Oct 6, 2013
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Sep 1, 2013
@ 12:43 am
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mariecalloway:

"printed out this broadsheet with the quote, ‘They say it is love. We say it is unwaged labor’ and hung it on my wall. satisfied. went to bed. worried for hours about having zero money. realized, if sadly. we may be poor and lonely, but at least we are unloved…" - maya


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Aug 27, 2013
@ 8:10 pm
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nevver:

“I believe in luck: how else can you explain the success of those you don’t like?” ― Jean Cocteau

nevver:

“I believe in luck: how else can you explain the success of those you don’t like?” ― Jean Cocteau