ambergoesclick:

"Hello. Today we’re gonna talk about Mary Dyer."

Still my favorite Drunk History moment.

(via fauxkaren)

aconybell:

emeraldinewebs:

adulthoodisokay:

PREACH

i quote her almost daily

I just love how she’s so pissed.

(via godiseven)

For many of these women, the reading experience begins from a place of seething rage. Take Sara Marcus’ initial impression of Jack Kerouac: “I remember putting On the Road down the first time a woman was mentioned. I was just like: ‘Fuck. You.’ I was probably 15 or 16. And over the coming years I realized that it was this canonical work, so I tried to return to it, but every time I was just like, ‘Fuck you.’” Tortorici had a similarly visceral reaction to Charles Bukowski: “I will never forget reading Bukowski’s Post Office and feeling so horrible, the way that the narrator describes the thickness of ugly women’s legs. I think it was the first time I felt like a book that I was trying to identify with rejected me. Though I did absorb it, and of course it made me hate my body or whatever.” Emily Witt turned to masculine texts to access a sexual language that was absent from books about women, but found herself turned off by their take: “many of the great classic coming-of-age novels about the female experience don’t openly discuss sex,” she says in No Regrets. “I read the ones by men instead, until I was like, ‘I cannot read another passage about masturbation. I can’t. It was like a pile of Kleenex.”

This isn’t just about the books. When young women read the hyper-masculine literary canon—what Emily Gould calls the “midcentury misogynists,” staffed with the likes of Roth, Mailer, and Miller—their discomfort is punctuated by the knowledge that their male peers are reading these books, identifying with them, and acting out their perspectives and narratives. These writers are celebrated by the society that we live in, even the one who stabbed his wife. In No Regrets, Elif Bautman talks about reading Henry Miller for the first time because she had a “serious crush” on a guy who said his were “the best books ever,” and that guy’s real-life recommendation exacerbated her distaste for the fictional. When she read Miller, “I felt so alienated by the books, and then thinking about this guy, and it was so hot and summertime … I just wanted to kill myself. … He compared women to soup.”

In No Regrets, women writers talk about what it was like to read literature’s “midcentury misogynists.” (via becauseiamawoman)

Here’s a fun thing you learn when you study literature: the western canon is not universally beloved. Those books are not the Truth any more than the New York Post is skilled journalism. The main reason they’re held in such high esteem is because they were written by boring white dudes with rage fantasies and boring white dudes with rage fantasies also happen to be largely in charge of deciding which books are deemed classics and taught forever in the American school system.
So if your boyfriend tells you he loves Kerouac then you tell your boyfriend Kerouac was a fucking second rate hack who wrote Beat style because he didn’t have the skill or talent to write any other way, which is probably also why he just copied every adolescent male wanderlust story since the beginning of time. That shit’s derivative and boring.

(via saintthecla)

(via itsbobsledtime)

slaughterhouse90210:

“Basically, I realized I was living in that awful stage of life between twenty-six to and thirty-seven known as stupidity. It’s when you don’t know anything, not even as much as you did when you were younger, and you don’t even have a philosophy about all the things you don’t know, the way you did when you were twenty or would again when you were thirty-eight.” ― Lorrie Moore, Anagrams

slaughterhouse90210:

“Basically, I realized I was living in that awful stage of life between twenty-six to and thirty-seven known as stupidity. It’s when you don’t know anything, not even as much as you did when you were younger, and you don’t even have a philosophy about all the things you don’t know, the way you did when you were twenty or would again when you were thirty-eight.”
― Lorrie Moore,
Anagrams

idontlikeyourturtlepuppet:

Tumblr, you’re gonna enjoy this. Hurray for the Riff Raff's Alynda Lee Segarra ( Puerto Rican heritaged, Bronx raised, New Orleans educated) is not only a magnificent musician but more importantly a class human. 'The Body Electric' is her answer to classic murder ballads like Johnny Cash’s Delia’s Gone.

"I just thought maybe it was time a woman sings a song about murder ballads since it’s so often women that are killed in murder ballads." (x)

"This one goes out to all the ladies out there who are tired of feeling afraid." (x)

“I also feel like, first and foremost, I have this feminist lense that I see the world in. And I feel like folk music is so great because it’s a conversation throughout the generations. So I thought it was fairly important for someone like myself to add my voice into these old songs. And also just give these characters a voice, give Delia a voice. And just give these women characters their humanity back." (x)

(Hurray for the Riff Raff also self-identify as a queer band if you need any more encouragement to get on itunes already and support them).