I am belaboring the point because Foucault’s and Agamben’s ideas [of biopolitics and bare life] are frequently invoked without scrutinizing the historial, philosophical, or political foundations upon which they are constructed, which bespeaks a broader tendency in which theoretical formulations by white European thinkers are granted a conceptual carte blanche, while those uttered from the purview of minority discourse that speak to the same questions are almost exclusively relegated to the jurisdiction of ethnographic locality. The challenges posed to the smooth operations of western Man since the 1960s by continental thought and minority discourse, though, as I discuss later, historically, conceptually, institutionally, and politically relational, still tend to be segregated, because minority discourses seemingly cannot inhabit the space of proper theoretical reflection.
— Alexander Weheliye on Hortense Spillers and Sylvia Wynter’s black feminist thought, black studies, and the hierarchization of visible human difference in Habeas Viscus: Racializing Assemblages, Biopolitics, and Black Feminist Theories of the Human (2014)
chillin in my backyard with a bunch of cacti a mini bottled water a tube bra and fishprint MC hammer pants
the semester is getting brutal i’m gonna need to do a lot of drugs when i go to SF soon
did i tell you guys that when i did molly in the castro this summer all me and my friends did was walk around like the same two blocks until 3am (time was like an accordian)
my bff met some stranger whose patience was holier than god’s because she actually stuck around w/ some of the most dumbly fucked up people in the bay
when we had the opportunity to go home bff made me stay out and WANDER AROUND because she wanted to make out with patient stranger but not go home with them, so the stranger thought i was clueless and cockblocking, which is a thing i would never do and later i was incredibly insulted
while they made out i stared across the street at a crowd of voguing gay boys after a bar had closed
they hopped into the convertible playing rap, pulled each others pants down, and started giving each other head in the middle of the fucking street while snapping selfies
i was like, what i’m seeing can’t be real, but it was
its like 500˚ in the desert and my life doesn’t have enough drugs or lascivious night creatures in it
equinox my ass
Guattari’s final improvised address was cut short by his fellow speaker Ti-Grace Atkinson. Throughout [the Schizo-Culture conference], Atkinson and her followers confronted the other speakers, who were indeed entirely male (apart from Judy Clark), as targets in the fight against the male political class. The situation was surely exacerbated by an angry exchange the previous day with Foucault, who reportedly told them, "You’re right, I’m not interested in women: you do it!” And so when Guattari began to talk about women and desire, all hell broke loose.
print edition available for order here.
duh!!! contributer copies are free & ready and i’m gonna send you one. msg me your address curate.
It’s also true that friendship is not in great shape in America today. In 1985, people tended to have about three really close friends, according to the General Social Survey. By 2004, according to research done at Duke University and the University of Arizona, they were reporting they had only two close confidants. The number of people who say they have no close confidants at all has tripled over that time.
— david brooks’ provocative solution: “So, in the fantasy world in which I have $500 million, I’d try to set up places that would cultivate friendships.. . I envision a string of adult camps or retreat centers (my oldest friendships were formed at summer camp, so I think in those terms)." ok so you mean, like, communism? NYT
"The future is a store and you have no money"
from 8x8x7 by Colin Smith
“‘To geek’ is to sit online and read mail, news, chat, and otherwise waste time in front of a keyboard. This ‘geeking’ often consumes many hours, even if the intention was to ‘just log on and check my mail.’ Some would say this time would be better spent bring social in person or even just being curled up in a sunbeam.”
Yesterday, with friends, I went to see Kara Walker’s A Subtlety at the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and was surrounded by people saying things like, “I am not into the slavery thing right now” and taking selfies in front of the sculpture of the black Mammy sphinx, posing in ways to appear to be touching her breasts or cupping her buttocks. When we asked a group if they understood the significance and resonance of the piece, as it relates to slavery and the black body, they told us they were immature. Good answer, and yet, my group felt injured and exhausted by the spectacle. I sometimes wonder if Walker’s intention is to redirect the black gaze away from the pieces themselves and onto their white consumption? On the street outside the show, my group got in an argument with a lady about a cab. Another cab would have come along; clearly some maneuvering, some slight adjustments that needed to be made, were beyond us. Our curating abilities were exhausted suddenly. Lunch was a subdued affair.
most psychically structuring outfit of the 1990s.
when the girl working cashier flirts with you bc something about you communicates that that’s an option
it’s not necessarily bc you aren’t her competition now, it might be that too — competition doesn’t always *feel* like competition
but it’s that you’re visible to her because she’s not invisible to you
it’s like permission to look
i live for this moment right now