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Our first country was a woman’s body

I was a terrible believer in things, but I was also a terrible nonbeliever in things. I was as searching as I was skeptical.

Cant stop….wont stop

“I do not wish anything to be taken from me. I wish to give freely, or to sell.”

“I thought that the surest defense against losing access to either was to be sex or to be art — for the consumption of others, and for the reassurance of myself that I was bound up with what I wanted. But sometimes to be inside something is to be very far from it.”

im so bored i’m so bored why was one of these essays just a recap of the halo effect

“The pearls weren’t really white, they were a warm oyster beige, with little knots in between so if they broke, you only lost one. I wished my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn’t come apart.”

“This was what it was like to be beautiful. I was in two places at once, not only in my thought, but my bare feet on the dusty yard, my legs growing strong, my breasts in the new bra, my long tan arms, my hair flowing white in the hot wind. He was taking my silence but giving me something in return, a fullness of being recognized. I felt beautiful, but also interrupted. I wasn’t used to being so complicated.”

WHY is the author in some sort of big word contest with herself? Extremely frustrating and totally interruptive of any sort of argumentative flow

“Let us linger in the interstices of what occurs as the unconscious is pressing for translation before its energies are coagulated into meaning, that is, in the space of opacity that the ego so fervently resists.”

“What if all that saying and dissecting deceived me into feeling confident in who I was and what I felt, as if saying was an absolute extension of feeling—brain to tongue?
What if the muscle strengthened wasn’t that of understanding but of translating the self, and my interpretation was premature? In contrast, how did you make sense of yourself in silence?”