“Quarantine With Abdelhalim Hafez”
the lyrics do not translate
arabic is all verbs for what stays
still in other languages
تصبح to morning what the
translation to awake cannot
honor cannot contain its rhyme with
تسبح to swim t to make
the night a body of water
i am here now & i cannot morning
i am twenty-three & always
sick small for my age & always
translating i cannot sleep
through the night
no language has given me the
rhyme between ocean &
wound that i know to be true
sometimes when the doctors
draw my useless blood i feel
the word at the tip of my tongue
halim sings أعرق a’raq
I am drowning i am drowning
the single word for all the water
in his throat does not translate
halim sings teach me to kill the
tear in its duct halim sings
i have no experience in love
nor have i a boat & i know he
cannot rest cannot swim
through the night
i am looking for a voice with
a wound in it a man who could
only have died by a form of
drowning let the song take
its time let the ocean close
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This isn’t particularly my taste in photography (though I like the mother’s expression below), but I do love seeing images of extended breastfeeding. And I wish I’d had more photos taken of me when I was doing this.
From “Photographer Ivette Ivens explores beauty extended breastfeeding” in Huffington Post.
Posted in breastfeeding, motherhood, motherhood bliss, toddlers | 2 Comments »
See The Babadook because it is really about the claustrophobia of single parenthood.
See Actress because it is really about the sexuality of mothers.
Posted in art, motherhood, motherhood bliss, motherhood sux, pop culture, sex of the icky parental kind, single parenthood | Leave a Comment »
Here class counts for everything. A child of privilege can afford strategic confusion, a child of the masses cannot. Chance opportunities are likely to come to the child of privilege because of family background and educational networks; privilege diminishes the need to strategize. Strong, extensive human networks allow those at the top to dwell in the present; the networks constitute a safety net which diminishes the need for long-term strategic planning. The new elite thus have less need of the ethic of delayed gratification, as thick networks provide contacts and a sense of belonging, no matter what firm or organization one works for. The mass, however, has a thinner network of informal contact and support, and so remains more institution-dependent. It’s sometimes said that the new technology can somewhat correct this inequality, electronic chat rooms and affinity groups supplying the information a young person would need to seize the moment. In the work world, at least at the moment, this is not the case. Face-to-face matters. This is why techies go to so many conventions, and, more consequently, why people working from home, connected to the office only by computer, so often are left out of informal decision gathering and decision making.
In general, the lower down in an organization, the thinner one’s network, the more a person;s survival requires formal strategic thinking, and formal strategic thinking requires a legible social map.
From Richard Sennett’s excellent book, The Culture of the New Capitalism.
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I just can’t believe it. That all you have to do is sleep with somebody and get caught and you never have to see your in-laws again. Ever. Pfffft! Gone. It’s the nearest thing to magic I have yet found.
But I am being hard on my husband, who I loved, and who is now fighting with me about money, never mind broken dreams. In fact everyone is fighting with me about money: my sister, too. Who would have thought love could be so expensive? I should sit down and calculate it out at so much per kiss. The price of this house plus the price of that house, divided by two, plus the price of the house we are in. Thousands. Every time I touch him. Hundreds of thousands. Because we took it too far. We should have stuck to car parks and hotel bedrooms (no, really, we should really have stuck to car parks and hotel bedrooms_. If we keep going the price will come down – per event, as it were. Twenty years of love can be consummated for tuppence. After a lifetime it is almost free.
Anne Enright in The Forgotten Waltz. I adore Enright’s books and this one was a terrific recent read.
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