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posturing simpleton

@posturingsimpleton / posturingsimpleton.tumblr.com

field notes and observations
“‘In a way, literature is truer than life,’ he said to himself. ‘On paper, you say exactly and completely what you feel. How easy it is to break things off on paper! You hate, you shout, you kill, you commit suicide; you carry things to the very end. And that’s why it’s false. But it’s damned satisfying. In life, you’re constantly denying yourself, and others are always contradicting you. On paper, I make time stand still and I impose my convictions on the whole world; they become the only reality.’”

— Simone de Beauvoir, The Mandarins, the book was published in 1954 and received the Prix Goncourt, France’s most important literature prize, that same year.

SVA faculty Amy Wilson (@amywilsonart) shares her new art book, 'How To Survive This Moment.' The five linoleum prints (and cover) that make up this book are both gorgeous and extremely relevant to current times. Keep an eye on her page for information on how to buy one.

The poet Rilke looked at a statue of Apollo about fifty years ago, and Apollo spoke to him. “You must change your life,” he said. When the genuine myth rises into consciousness, that is always its message. You must change your life. The way of art, after all, is neither to cut adrift from the emotions, the senses, the body, etc., and sail off into the void of pure meaning, nor to blind the mind’s eye and wallow in irrational, amoral meaninglessness—but to keep open the tenuous, difficult, essential connections between the two extremes. To connect. To connect the idea with value, sensation with intuition, cortex with cerebellum. The true myth is precisely one of these connections.

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The Language of the Night: Essays on Writing, Science Fiction, and Fantasy (Ursula K. Le Guin)

I Have Started to Say

by Philip Larkin

I have started to say "A quarter of a century" Or "thirty years back" About my own life.

It makes me breathless It's like falling and recovering In huge gesturing loops Through an empty sky.

All that's left to happen Is some deaths (my own included). Their order, and their manner, Remain to be learnt.

Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea,

Mary Oliver, from "The Sun"
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