04 May 2016

A Woman's Desk

A woman's desk -- like her lingerie drawer, the bedroom of her teenage years, the corners of her mind where poetry lives -- is entirely her own. And in this moment, I may have an overabundance of affection for mine.

I needed something to strike a balance between my inner romantic & the practicalities of, well, a workspace. It's easy to hit one and hard to hit both simultaneously. I can't focus in a space too cluttered, but I can't think in one too barren either. And so a few things -- a silk scarf to thumb in moments of writer's block, a Degas from the Musée d'Orsay, an excessively feminine lamp & seat to contrast the minimal desk. 

I also keep a copy of "How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are" because it feels rather like reading an inspiring blog -- something to get lost in. It's actually a favorite book of mine. Thank you, Caroline de Maigret et al, for reminding me the charm of writing freely, straightforwardly, and for caring a little less. And I aways wear perfume while I work. It reminds me of my physicality. I can get too lost in my soul.

13 April 2016

Lines From Joan

Lines from writer Joan Didion.

"I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be."

"I am what I am. To look for reasons is beside the point."

"The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself."

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” 

“To free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves--there lies the great, singular power of self-respect.” 

"A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty."

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. "

"Hemingway was really early. I probably started reading him when I was just eleven or twelve. There was just something magnetic to me in the arrangement of those sentences. Because they were so simple - or rather they appeared to be so simple, but they weren't."

"Grammar is a piano I play by ear."

“...quite simply, I was in love with New York. I do not mean “love” in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again."

“You have to pick the places you don't walk away from.” 

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.”