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the AI generator prompt I gave was something like: retro japanese 80s screenprinted poster camellia flower
my search for the perfect camellia continues.
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a dream of a bathhouse
Last night, I dreamt that I, along with some of my former peers, walked into a newly-renovated women's restroom at the college I used to attend, where, to our delight, we discovered they had included in it a bathhouse. It was a dazzling, warmly-lit space gilded in copper and adorned with live plants (of interest to me: a young fig tree), that tempted us to strip down and bathe ourselves right away. For the first time, it was as though we felt truly cared for by the institution, and now we would care for each other in this space.
As I reflected on the meaning of this dream, I realized there must be political and cultural potential in the bathhouse--perhaps one that we desperately need. We know this from the ancient Greeks and Romans, whose philosophies emerged out of the forum that were communal baths. Hot springs and bathhouses survive as essential community spaces around the world, from the 24-hour Korean spas where families can eat, sleep, and bathe, to Japanese onsen where watching hunchbacked, naked 90-something year old ladies revolutionized my ideas of beauty, to the social hub that are the Russian banyas.
But we (as Americans) mostly come in contact with bathing through its fragmentated and privatized forms--rarely publicly--with our expensive day spas, retreat centers, backyard Jacuzzis, master bathrooms, daily showers, and self-care bath rituals: all sweet little escapes from the daily (capitalist) grind, but only as far as they serve our individual bodies. We understand the importance of bathing, and sometimes grant ourselves its performance alongside others, but rarely naked, and only with the right kind of "others"; communal bathing is to either be done with a sexual partner or on/as an occasion, e.g. ladies' spa day. It must shield us from the "impure," which can only come with the barrier of a price tag. The colonized mind commands that a hyper-sanitized personal lifestyle is what distinguishes us from the savages, so it follows that public communal bathing carries risk. Cleanliness as class division. As puritanical fascism. Let's also add to this the moral taboos of public bathing which stem from our fear of the naked body, the sexualized body, the non-normative (especially, the queer) body. Also, our fear of contagion and infection. Our fear of nature, the natural. Our amnesia that we are made of water, water is life, and it is a universal right to be able to access safe water. Our erasure over community in the righteous pursuit of individualism. And that we heal together, not alone. What realities are we scared to face when we are naked together?
Perhaps bathhouses are a great leveler (if they are constructed with access and ability in mind; right now, that may not be possible as we are still in a life-threatening pandemic). I think this essay/article suggests so, and helpfully explains the global and historical significance of bathhouses, and that there is a changing consciousness around public, communal bathing:
"Renewed interest in this rich historical panorama is helping to reimagine the bathhouse as a community space and reconnecting us to water in an increasingly water-stressed era. Unlike the contemporary spa – almost invariably a place of privilege and luxury – the bathhouse has more inclusive roots. New models are emerging in response to changing social and urban conditions and shifting boundaries between public and private life, and between personal and communal space. There is also now a need for wellness spaces built on different principles from the rabid consumerism of the beauty and leisure industries."
Source: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/home-and-garden/design/a-new-sauna-culture-reimagining-the-bathhouse-as-a-community-space/article32333172/
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If you eat animals just be honest with yourself and admit that you can’t love animals if you’re paying someone to slit their throats and kill them in violent ways for you to consume their flesh. Just stop being hypocritical. Align your values with your actions, you will feel so much better. Watch Dominion, it’s free on YouTube. There’s no reason not to educate yourself on the reality of where your “food” comes from, it’s a good thing. You can make more conscious and informed choices that truly reflect who you are.
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not grinding
it’s ok if you’re not grinding 24/7.
i believe that those who attach so much value to their nonstop grind work ethic are missing the point -
we are human beings, not human doings
your bragging is annoying
i don’t care to see you up at 4am working on your next ep
i don’t want to hear repetetive, redundant lyrics about working hard in order to play hard
it’s a noble pursuit and can be inspiring to others who fall under that category
but right now in my life, i really, really, don’t wanna hear about it.
is it even genuine? i wonder.
i don’t resonate and relate to that fear-ego-driven mode, and do you ever turn it off?
so driven by money, or success, or happiness, or some external satisfaction of a current condition that they are not at peace with
is grinding blinding?
to the people who feel lost because they don’t have clear goals, or if they have an interest in something but don’t pursue it because they’re more motivated to do the opposite of that thing (laziness, distractions), you are fine. you’re fine right where you are, and you don’t have to judge it.
you don’t have to act super motivated and work hard to do shit that looks impressive.
work deeply, work restoratively, work nonsensically, don’t work at all. and if that looks like not being employed for a year, and living off of your family, or traveling around by hitchhiking, or taking crappy jobs, it’s ok. you can do you just as you’re meant to, without the shame or judgement attached to it.
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Little magpie! The newest member of my Flipbook project!
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Today I saw this guy that I had talked to on Tinder; I was walking down one of the lettered streets on the corner of 4th street by Starbucks, and I saw him with this big ol’ white board in his arms. He looked just like his pictures: a post-Soviet 90’s look with a slicked-back undercut, tiny oval-framed sunglasses, cargo pants rolled at the hem, black high-top sneakers, and a loose black tee draped on his tall stature. Though I had only a moment’s glance, his skin looked pasty and his face wore an unpleasant grimace. He looked like one of the bad guys in a 90s action-packed vampire movie. I had only swiped right because he had his own style among the endless beer-loving rednecks, preppy mid-western clones, and EDM-obsessed stoners; admittedly, I appreciated his apathetic attempt at a bio (which I had to Google), because those things don’t matter much anyway, and I could tell he was part of the big-city art-school-kid diaspora that floods into the Bay Area, which means he had potential to be a lot more relatable than any other locals.
I didn’t stop him on the street. I doubt he had even noticed me. I deleted my Tinder account a while ago, anyway. He also never responded to me after a few interesting exchanges (a shame, because I was really looking forward to learning more about his dance-related film project!). Ah, the pursuits we make for intellectual-spiritual-physical-intimacy, the thirst we young creatives have for artsy guys who “do their own thing” and aren’t replicating generations of corrupt businessmen and stereotypical masculine roles! However, I don’t believe they rank higher than Fuckboys - actually, I know they’re not all that “different.” They still sexually abuse their peers (their fragile masculinity and power struggles in a feminist liberal environment, woe is me!), they’re still babies who need a mama, and they still try to get it in the first time you hang out alone.
At least Fuckboys aren’t afraid to approach you.
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Three Graces, Isadora Duncan c. 1923 via The New York Public Library
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martha graham on isamu noguchi’s sculpture- set piece for graham’s dance “cave of the heart,” new york city (1946)
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“The Greek word from which we derive our words school and scholar, σχολή, originally meant leisure. Superficially, we could explain this by saying that we can only study if we have a certain amount of time exempt from labor; studying is something that happens in our free time. But if leisure is not a species of vacancy, a mere privation of work, a state of no activity, then it is a form of activity in which mind and heart can regenerate in the exercise of inquiry and imagination — pure play, in the fullest sense. I would wish this for everyone.”
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Grey seal (Halichoerus grypus) at Worms Head in the Gower peninsular, Wales.
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