So what is the best vegetable? Well, we all know that: it’s the potato. The vegetable you can’t screw up. You can throw a potato into a bonfire, run away from it - and, an hour later, it’s turned into a meal. Try doing that with broccoli, or a trifle, and it will laugh in your face.
The working classes do things differently. I can hear it. I can see we are not wrong. We are not just poor people who have not yet evolved into something else - ie: people with money. We are something else - just as we are. The working classes do it differently. We are the next thing. We power popular culture - just as, before, we powered the Industrial Revolution. The past is theirs but the future’s mine. They’re all out of time.
Since I met you, I feel like I can see the operating system of the world- and it is unrequited love. That is why everyone’s doing everything. Every book, opera house, moon shot and manifesto is here because someone, somewhere, lit up silent when someone else came into the room, and then quietly burned when they didn’t notice them.
The Ice Bucket Challenge in Celebrity Watch. (The Times, 29.08.14) [x]
….burlesque clubs feel like a place for girls. Strip clubs—despite the occasional presence of a Spice Girl, ten years ago—do not. Watching good burlesque in action, you can see female sexuality; a performance constructed with the values system of a woman: beautiful lighting, glossy hair, absurd accessories (giant cocktail glasses; huge feather fans), velvet corsets, fashionable shoes, Ava Gardner eyeliner, pale skin, classy manicures, humor, and a huge round of applause at the end—instead of an uncomfortable, half-hidden erection, and silence.
this is a good point, although the “pale skin” should be omitted.
Burlesque compared with stripping is a parallel i love to analyze.
Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again.
But I don’t want to be noble and committed like most women in history were - which invariably seems to involve being burned at the stake, dying of sadness or being bricked up in a tower by an earl. I don’t want to sacrifice myself for something. I don’t want to die for something. I don’t even walk in the rain up a hill in a skirt that’s sticking to my thighs for something. I want to live for something, instead - as men do. I want to have fun. The most fun ever. I want a rapturous quest. I want to sacrifice myself to glee. I want to make the world better, in some way.
It’s really best not to tell people when you feel bad. Growing up is about keeping secrets, and pretending everything is fine.