Sunday, April 14, 2013

Poetics & Politics

Cravings for solitude are supplemented by my realization this year that there has been a lack of salience within my relations with others. This has exacerbated feelings of existential nihilism within me. But there are ebbs & flows within this paradigm. It's certainly not conclusive, nor is it a replacement. It's like how when palm fronds become wet when beaten with pouring rain during a tropical storm, but that which the very next day are dried under a hot sun. 

"Wrong solitude vinegars the soul, right solitude oils it.
How fragile we are, between the few good moments."
Jane Hirshfield, Vinegar and Oil

It's during these 'oily' moments where I discover, for example, that I want to sit under the sun for hours and watch Frida Kahlo paint while I swish around on her terrace in her one of her many maxi skirts. 

So the next best thing is to don a swishing maxi skirt. Channel my inner Frida Kahlo.

"I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do.

I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you." 
Frida Kahlo

pleated skirt, U0, $10
ruffled coral button-upshirt, Mintage, $6
sequinned vest, Mother's from the 80's
gold & green earrings, gifted, from Abu Dhabi

And in these moments you discover that poets are your long-lost friends. Each word is a reminder of this camaraderie, of this understanding.

"your email says
i feel like a loser a lot,
like i’ve lost.
i think about all the things i’ve lost
weight, lovers, memory, dignity, time, self respect and people 
most of all i lose people
to prison, to ghosts, to the ground
to a changed phone number
to a nothing that meant everything.
i start to count loss with my fingers
the summer we lost our home
and last year, 
my pride
my innocence and my milk teeth in the same winter
my father, my brother
my country, my accent.
the television tells us that we have to ’let go’and i do.

even my secrets   
i lose to poems."
—Warsan Shire

It is only natural to wear your feelings. Mine take the form of sequins, feathers, geometric prints, faux leather, gemstones, and colour. At once.
blue sequinned chopped leotard, F As in Frank vintage sale, < $2
colourful geometric-print pleated skirt, thrifted, $6
feather earrings, Aldo, $7
faux-leather tights, Silence + Noise, $10
blue pumps, thrifted, $3
bag, UO, $10

Finally, twenty years of existence, and the last few under the influence of a certain set of politics and poetics, can only make one yearn for a "connection with someone that isn't predicated on aesthetic ideals."(

But then there is this wonderful reminder
"We mustn't be in love with the ritual of love."
—Vivian Gornick
As someone whom I deeply admire has put it, we instead "must cultivate healthy solitude & healthy love of self."

 ♥ ♥ ♥
Drop me a line, so I can add things to The Summer Reading List, lovers.


Anonymous said...

Absolutely love it! I'm not brave enough to wear some of the awesome things you do (this might sound like a backhanded compliment, but I'm genuinely envious of your way with colours & patterns!)

Anonymous said...

Oh and I see you finally found a way to work the blue leotard! Looks fab x

Anonymous said...

Soheyl Dahi

No, Not Me
After Harold Norse’s ‘I’m Not a Man’

I am not a real American
because I speak English with an accent
even though I don’t think with one.

I am not a real American
because I don’t play or watch baseball,
I hate apple pie, red meat, pick up trucks
and sleeveless t shirts.

I am not a real American
because I won’t die for oil,
or vote republican or democrat.
The difference between the two is the same
difference between Pepsi and Coke.

I am not a real American
because I will not do the pledge
and I smile at those who tell me,
"go back to where you came from."
As a citizen of the only empire,
I have a right to be here
or anywhere.

I am not a real American
because I don’t hate Jews, Arabs, Blacks, or Latinos
and I won’t sell my house if one moved to my street.

I am not a real American
because I don’t care what people do in their private lives.
Hell, if two men or two women want to get married,
that’s all right with me.

I am not a real American
because I don’t think homelessness is a fact of life.

I am not a real American
because I will not call a human being illegal.

I am not a real American
because I like poetry and art
especially during war time.

I am not a real American
because I listen to KPFA
and I have friends who say they are
communists or anarchists.

I am not a real American
because I refuse to work 80 hours a week
for a corporation which will chew me and spit me out
at its convenience.

I am not a real American
because, unlike 89% of the population,
I hold a valid passport.

I am not a real American
because I cry when people are called
collateral damage.

I am not a real American
because I speak English with an accent
even though I don’t love with one.

Urooba said...

Anon #1: Thanks so much! Seriously, life is a lot more interesting when you dress this way. ;)

Anon #2: Wow, thanks for sharing! Can you expand, though, on why you did? :)

Anon 2 said...

I like connecting dots

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