Posts Tagged ‘bones’

Winter of my discontent: Winter afternoons like the heft of oppressive cathedral tunes

January 20, 2011


Notre Dame, December 8, 2010. Photographed by Remy De La Mauviniere.

There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons —
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes —

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us —
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are.

(Emily Dickinson. Poem No. 258.)

When everything is gloomy and all the grass and crops buried under the snow, and Christmas has gone and it’s a new year, and there is nothing to look at or on which to work but your soul: this I find oppressive.

Like cathedral tunes calling me to examination of conscience before reconciliation, my least favorite sacrament. (And I’ve had more than most people. What’s got two thumbs and survived Last Rites? This guy.) In this world one of the things I particularly don’t like is taking stock and looking back, and that’s all a human can really do in the winter, traditionally. But that’s what I try to force myself to do with this journal, and is also the purpose for this Winter of my discontent theme to begin with. So I should stop looking for quotes or cute pictures with which to avoid being serious about it, and start actually fulfilling the task I set out for myself.

I feel like this is unrelated, but I had this revelation about tooth whitening the other day that turned my stomach — it is bleaching your bones. I know that we have many grooming rituals which are ridiculous when one takes the long view of humankind, rituals in which I readily participate such as make-up and hair teasing. But to bleach one’s teeth suddenly struck me as wrong on a deeper level.

Teeth are bones, and people bleach them so they will be more attractive. They want pretty bones. That is macabre and horrific and insane. What the fuck is the matter with people?

On the other hand, I would be a hypocrite not to admit that I guess I’d do it if I had the spare change. I want pretty bones as much as the next guy. I’m not a complicated conundrum, I’m just a shallow, uncertain mess.

Showdown!: Shirtless with black bra edition

July 14, 2010


“I would love to have Monica Bellucci’s figure, but I’m never going to get it. I’m naturally who I am.”

(Keira Knightley, May 21, 2007 on British television.)

Oh, the hell you’re that naturally thin. This is not sour grapes, this is me saying I have naturally slender friends (Cinder, Paolo, Corinnette) that you make look gluttonous by comparison.

I think Keira Knightley is very beautiful and I like that she dislikes paparazzi and publicity shenanigans, but I do not like that I can see all the knobs of her spine and she hasn’t got the sense to stop shopping around the tired genetic excuse which could never possibly account for the degree of boniness to which she has descended in the last decade. I like tone and I like cheekbones, but when chicks get that kind of Predator protusiveness to their clavichles and elbows, I get this skeevy, recoiling feeling.


via

I can’t even look at animal bones. Ask my family about the Thanksgiving that I walked in to help clean the kitchen and my aunt hadn’t wrapped the remainder of the carcass in foil yet. I literally fainted. I could never be a battlefield nurse nor a professional taxidermist (as opposed to your hobby-taxidermy). Haven’t got the stomach.


Photograph by Lauren Greenfield for her Thin showing. Yes, it’s the same girl, only in her second picture she looks pretty.

So when I say protrusive bones skeeve me out, I’m not jumping on a thin-girls-are-anorexic bandwagon where the in-flight movie is Envy and we are all served with tall glasses of haterade by morbidly obese stewardesses selected specifically to make us feel good in comparison because we’re sick enough to mentally pit ourselves against other women. I’m serious. Bones like that freak me out and upset me and make me think of the Holocaust which then makes me want to cry until I vomit.

So for the love of God, Keira Knightley, if I have to see you in another goddamned Pirates of the Caribbean movie which all United States citizens are required by law to attend or face public headshaving, would you please eat spaghetti before stepping in front of the camera?? Thank you.

Anyway, here they are again. Showdown!: Shirtless with black bra edition — whose body rocks the party?



Top: Keira Knightley; Bottom: Monica Bellucci.

It happens: All apologies

September 12, 2009




Audrey Hepburn, I am sorry that I adapted Alfred Hitchcock’s criticism of you yesterday when I called you the patron saint of anorexics. It was totally not okay of me to call you out like that. I don’t know what came over me and I heartily apologize.

You’re a special spirit, a fellow brunette and fellow guilty smoker, and I’ve always thought you had a certain style, and I’ve always bet you used to tap your collarbone when you were bored in line at the ladies’ just like me, and, well, long story short, I hope that we’re still cool. Sorry again.

I thought maybe today I will schedule some you-centric ghost posts to try to make it up to you (not that, from what I gather, you were much of a one for kowtowing and attention…but still). Okay?