Power seeks to enclose beauty—to make it scarce, controlled. There is scant beauty in militarized zones or prisons. But beauty keeps breaking out anyway, like the roses on that Ferguson street.
The world is connected now. Where it breaks, we all break. But it is our world, to love as it burns around us. Jack Gilbert is right. “We must risk delight” in the summer of monsters. Beauty is survival, not distraction. Beauty is a way of fighting. Beauty is a reason to fight."
— Molly Crabapple We Must Risk Delight After a Summer Full of Monsters | VICE United States (via snitnation)
— Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow (via larmoyante)
It’s not about the look of anyone else in Walmart as you walk through it with your sister on a busy and noisy Sunday afternoon, part of your renewed determination to get outside more and get in better health (physical and mental).
It’s not about the look from the security guard who you think sees you clutching your anti-anxiety medication suspiciously tight in your pocket.
It’s not about the four or five people you suddenly find pressing around you in one of the aisles, or the “I need to move, I need to move” you keep repeating helplessly out loud, and the speed with which you grab what you came for and bolt away. It’s not about the man who looks at you as if you moved so quickly because of his race, or the tears you feel coming to your eyes because you can’t tell him that you’re not afraid of him, you’re afraid of everybody.
It’s not about the blank look after the fact of the little boy in the green shirt. It’s not about the look of the teenager on her cell phone and whether or not the person on the other end is hearing about the bald old weirdo. It’s not about the look of the tall man and wondering if he’s seeing the overhead lights glare off your head. It’s not even about the look of the woman in the Ramones T-shirt you walk past, as you head back to the car feeling (and probably looking) thirty seconds away from a heart attack, unable to resist mumbling “I wanna be sedated” to her.
It’s only about the look you can give yourself in the mirror when you come back home knowing that you tried today and that you will still go back out and keep trying as long as it fucking takes.