“ The goal is not to maintain the status quo but with more diverse faces. The goal is to address and repair the historical and present day injustices. There is no magic number at which you have “enough” diverse people on staff or “enough” diverse books on your shelf or “enough” diverse people shortlisted for the Giller Prize. We will not be successful until people who are marginalized are no longer marginalized.”
Rewrite - Asian Kung-Fu Generation
Fullmetal Alchemist - Opening 4
'Beyonce covered Sex On Fire at glastonbury right?' 'She made the song a lot better. She made me masturbate to my own song.” - Caleb Followill (Kings of Leon lead singer)
Some nights I don’t feel like thinking about the future. I’m packing for America now, and it breaks my heart to be leaving Thailand. Not the place itself, not even the food, but rather the comfort of having all my friends live in the same area and the exciting possibility of being able to meet up on a day’s, or even an hour’s, notice - of being able to see each other when we need each other. I know this is a food blog, but at the heart of it food exists as a thread of commonality in all our human experience, a social good that binds us with the people we care about and a ritual where we show our love by choosing to spend the set number of moments and mealtimes in a lifetime with them. In a foreign place, imprinted on our taste buds like tattoos, we crave memories of excited conversation or the carefree laughter of a forgotten person we once were, with other forgotten people who were once as much a part of us as our massive dreams and little cruelties. We can go back to a place, but not to a memory - and that is life’s little cruelty, but also it’s gentle push forward. And so when I leave the country, I’ll look at the people I’ve been around my whole life and say “see you later”, and later on Skype or Facebook Messenger, I’ll say “goodnight” and not “goodbye”. And I’ll hold on to the fleeting sense of transition long after a permanent being has been established, and my memories will crystallize in the spaces in between - the airports, the transit lounges, the roads - before I unpack my bag in Boston. Because I will lose myself in the forward momentum, and find myself again.
“ Writing in a journal is just a stall, a waiting game, a way to tell yourself that you’re working when you’re not, that you’re doing something of value when you’re just using up paper, that you’re a writer when in fact you’re just going through the motions of one. Look at me! I have blank paper in front of me—and now I’m filling it, with words!”
I was just reading this thing on NYT Opinionator that author Bill Hayes wrote: “On Not Writing.” As the title suggests, he talks about how he stopped working on writing for a long while. He was warned that it might never come back:
I can’t say this didn’t scare me a bit. What if I really never wrote or published again?
I wouldn’t be in bad company, I told myself. After “Joe Gould’s Secret,” Jose…