Circling the Sun, Angela Lane
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costar truisms
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“Chocolate Chip Pancakes” — Caitlyn Siehl
You are making breakfast
in every dream that I have
of you.
You are in the kitchen, your
soft middle pressed up against
the cold marble countertops
like a vision too beautiful for
the magazines, sprinkling
dark chocolate chips over
pancakes.
I think for a brief second that
I am dreaming inside of my dream,
that I had to make you up twice,
just to get it right.
You, brushing your dark hair out
of your face, smearing batter
across your cheeks.
You have come and made
my dreams smaller, narrower.
Filled them with sugar and
your body humming in the
same room as mine.
I dream, now, of a normal life
with you.
A life where breakfast lasts until
the sun goes down,
until I have finished gazing at
you from across
the table,
flour dried to your forehead
like a kiss.
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Still Life with Peeled Orange and Bunch of Grapes, Albertus Steenbergen, late 19th century.⠀ ⠀ Available as a print from our shop here: https://t.co/LOmFqVfqzE
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i want a boyfriend to fold laundry with
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Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay
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Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness
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DREAM HOUSE WORKSHOP SERIES
Ongoing zine workshops where we share our research and a series of prompts that asked attendees to fill their zines with their ideas of the “dream house” not just as a safe space but a site based off of complexities around division, aspirations, traumas, pride, performance, and shame.
“The common representation of ‘home’ in popular discourse as a sacred, celebratory space of security and maximum individual autonomy is far too simplistic and underplays how much of a contested site and a locus of power relations homes can be.” - Akma Haseena Nazar
We have a growing collection of all of the zines that attendees have created over each workshop.
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food poetry
frank o’hara, from biotherm (for bill berkson)
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All Our Futures, Jody Chan
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moving away from your small shitty hometown is just. I hate this place. my best memories were formed here. my worst memories were formed here. I miss the familiarity of it all. the idea of going back makes me feel ill. I miss this specific meal I can get in my hometown. I have been exposed to so much more now that I'm gone. everyone I ever knew was here. the only people I would want to see are the ones who got out. the streets and landmarks are etched into my subconscious. I feel like a stranger when I go back. I refuse to ever live there again. it will always live inside me.
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― Margaret Atwood, You are Happy
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january is one of those months where you experience every feeling on the human spectrum and you just have to go about your day like that isn't happening
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“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.”
― Elana Dykewomon, Sinister Wisdom 36: Surviving Psychiatric Assault & Creating Emotional Well-Being in Our Communities
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