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August 28 2017

For many of these women, the reading experience begins from a place of seething rage. Take Sara Marcus’ initial impression of Jack Kerouac: “I remember putting On the Road down the first time a woman was mentioned. I was just like: ‘Fuck. You.’ I was probably 15 or 16. And over the coming years I realized that it was this canonical work, so I tried to return to it, but every time I was just like, ‘Fuck you.’” Tortorici had a similarly visceral reaction to Charles Bukowski: “I will never forget reading Bukowski’s Post Office and feeling so horrible, the way that the narrator describes the thickness of ugly women’s legs. I think it was the first time I felt like a book that I was trying to identify with rejected me. Though I did absorb it, and of course it made me hate my body or whatever.” Emily Witt turned to masculine texts to access a sexual language that was absent from books about women, but found herself turned off by their take: “many of the great classic coming-of-age novels about the female experience don’t openly discuss sex,” she says in No Regrets. “I read the ones by men instead, until I was like, ‘I cannot read another passage about masturbation. I can’t. It was like a pile of Kleenex.”

This isn’t just about the books. When young women read the hyper-masculine literary canon—what Emily Gould calls the “midcentury misogynists,” staffed with the likes of Roth, Mailer, and Miller—their discomfort is punctuated by the knowledge that their male peers are reading these books, identifying with them, and acting out their perspectives and narratives. These writers are celebrated by the society that we live in, even the one who stabbed his wife. In No Regrets, Elif Bautman talks about reading Henry Miller for the first time because she had a “serious crush” on a guy who said his were “the best books ever,” and that guy’s real-life recommendation exacerbated her distaste for the fictional. When she read Miller, “I felt so alienated by the books, and then thinking about this guy, and it was so hot and summertime … I just wanted to kill myself. … He compared women to soup.”

In No Regrets, women writers talk about what it was like to read literature’s “midcentury misogynists.” (via becauseiamawoman)
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holycheesecakefarts:

Enotiha Ha

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holycheesecakefarts:

Kristy Gordon

August 24 2017

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August 23 2017

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August 22 2017

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garnetsandaquarians:

lindsaaayyy:

Possible bulletin board quote..?

Love this!

August 18 2017

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chuwenjie:

i said “i’m not something to butter up and taste when you get bored”

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katari-katarina:

11

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15

August 08 2017

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boudoirduchaman:

By Saoirse Mç

The sign of intelligence is that you are constantly wondering. Idiots are always dead sure about every damn thing they are doing in their life.
— Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev (via quotemadness)

August 07 2017

But sometimes I wake from a long sleep and turn submissively towards the delicate abyss of disorder.
— Clarice Lispector, from The Complete Stories; “ The Foreign Legion, ” (via writemeanna)

August 04 2017

Never over. Developing. Rebirth. Despair.
Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry featured in “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath,
(via writemeanna)

July 16 2017

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torica5:

2017

溶けて混ざってあの子になりたい
Melt and mix in this space, I want to be her.

530×333

アクリル、パネル、和紙
acrylic,panel,Japanese paper

米満彩子
Ayako Yonemitsu

August 08 2017

The sign of intelligence is that you are constantly wondering. Idiots are always dead sure about every damn thing they are doing in their life.
— Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev (via quotemadness)

August 07 2017

But sometimes I wake from a long sleep and turn submissively towards the delicate abyss of disorder.
— Clarice Lispector, from The Complete Stories; “ The Foreign Legion, ” (via writemeanna)

August 04 2017

Never over. Developing. Rebirth. Despair.
Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry featured in “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath,
(via writemeanna)
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