cluebucket + 2013 + menstruation   1

ariana reines - NOBODY'S HOME
"The kind of love Haiti exerts is romantic love and it can be very very pure and it can be very very fucked up. I realize all anybody hears about in the news is rape and poverty and misery. And all that is real. But it is not the real truth, the core of the truth of who people are or what really rules reality, the sun behind the sun, the moon behind the moon, the essence around which the real botches and smashes and fumbles and kills. It is what is called a mystic truth. Maya Deren drew the connection with great aptitude: she showed and explicated exactly why, in Haitian thought, it is romance that separates the human from the rest of the terrestrial world. Romantic love is not only the source of poetry and art and courtesy and everything that exceeds the merely genital or gastrointestinal."

"Pitying Haiti is as stupid as pitying Planet Earth."

"I don’t know why I’m troubled by a kind of embarrassment that isn’t that different from the embarrassment I felt when I found the witch’s broom in Paris or when I found the tarot deck at Columbia or the trash bag full of ugly astrological jewelry in Bushwick or the magic wand shaped like a bird with a dick and seven arms in Bushwick, but I feel a tinge or an echo of that embarrassment and hilarity that would flood me when I used to find witchy shit in the street even though it was not my fault that I happened upon whatever it was and everytime I looked around and nobody seemed to have deliberately placed the thing in my path in order to taunt my fragile self-respect with intimations that whatever talents I might have possessed were worse than mediocre they were disgustingly gooey and feminine and rooted in the “occult” and not just any occult but the occult at its most cheesy and tacky. I don’t know why but right now I can’t think of the ultimate myth about father and daughter except for like Antigone? And maybe that’s more about the brother. Anyway it is not going to fucking cut it. Maybe I finally understand how I have never felt enough like a woman insofar as in former times I often felt too much like one. I guess I was a boy from an ancient story looking for his father. I guess that’s a fucking story. And I have never told the best parts. Once I found him nothing that was real around me in the world was ever real enough again except for him and what glowed in his vicinity. I know that sounds maybe gross and hyperbolic but I am reckoning the past three years with my blood and I’m sorry it’s accurate. And now everything is growing realer and realer every second. And I am so glad."
ariana_reines  writing  tumblr  haiti  poetry  menstruation  love  diary  destruction  romance  boundary  crazy  mother  father  humility  search  antigone  2013  2010s  2010 
february 2013 by cluebucket

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