LEOPOLD et BONAPARTE

The two men of my life, and the poetry, politics, music, and infinite glasses of wine we've shared

When Gibreel was nineteen, Najmuddin Senior became a member of the
lunch-runners’ guild, the Bombay Tiffin Carriers’ Association, and
when Gibreel was twenty, his father was dead, stopped in his tracks by a stroke that almost blew him apart. “He just ran himself into the
ground,” said the guild’s General Secretary, Babasaheb Mhatre himself.
"That poor bastard, he just ran out of steam." But the orphan knew
better. He knew that his father had finally run hard enough and long
enough to wear down the frontiers between the worlds, he had run clear
out of his skin and into the arms of his wife, to whom he had proved,
once and for all, the superiority of his love. Some migrants are happy to
depart.

Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

The Dø

—Dust It Off

Burning papers into ashes.

… sans avoir besoin de ce poison quotidien, récemment inventé, qu’on nomme le bonheur.

(Source: elaborateheists)

M. Sartre a beau m’expliquer que je suis misérable, enfermée dans ma condition humaine (comme Lassalle disait, au début du marxisme: “Il faut d’abord faire comprendre à l’ouvrier combien il est malheureux”), je suis décidée à être heureuse sans avoir besoin de ce poison quotidien, récemment inventé, qu’on nomme le bonheur.- Paul Morand, L’allure de Chanel

M. Sartre a beau m’expliquer que je suis misérable, enfermée dans ma condition humaine (comme Lassalle disait, au début du marxisme: “Il faut d’abord faire comprendre à l’ouvrier combien il est malheureux”), je suis décidée à être heureuse sans avoir besoin de ce poison quotidien, récemment inventé, qu’on nomme le bonheur.

Paul Morand, L’allure de Chanel

(Source: bluepassions, via dolce-vita-lifestyle)

Maya Plisetskaya celebrating her birthday on stage of the State Academic Bolshoi Theater, 2000. Photo RIA Novosti.

“She was, and still is, a star, ballet’s monstre sacré, the final statement about theatrical glamour, a flaring, flaming beacon in a world of dimly twinkling talents, a beauty in the world of prettiness”.- The Financial Times on Maya’s 80th birthday.

Maya Plisetskaya celebrating her birthday on stage of the State Academic Bolshoi Theater, 2000. Photo RIA Novosti.

“She was, and still is, a star, ballet’s monstre sacré, the final statement about theatrical glamour, a flaring, flaming beacon in a world of dimly twinkling talents, a beauty in the world of prettiness”.
- The Financial Times on Maya’s 80th birthday.

(Source: ele-bee, via thequeenbs)

I would rather be ashes than dust! 

I would rather that my spark should burn out 
in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. 

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom 
of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. 

The function of man is to live, not to exist. 

I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. 
I shall use my time. 

Jack London

Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss (1907-1908) and Egon Schiele’s Cardinal and Nun (1912)

In 1907, Egon Schiele sought out Gustav Klimt, who generously mentored younger artists, and he took a particular interest in the gifted young Schiele, buying his drawings, offering to exchange them for some of his own, arranging models for him and introducing him to potential patrons. Klimt invited Schiele to exhibit some of his work at the 1909 Vienna Kunstschau, where he encountered the work of Edvard Munch, Jan Toorop, and Vincent van Gogh among others. Schiele began to explore not only the human form, but also human sexuality. At the time, many found the explicitness of his works disturbing.

(Source: Wikipedia, via thequeenbs)

On Airplanes

I am always amused
By those couples—

Lovers and spouses—
Who perform and ask

Others to perform
Musical chairs

Whenever they, by
Random seat selection,

Are separated
From each other.

"Can you switch
Seats with me?”

A woman asked me
"So I can sit

With my husband?”
She wanted me,

A big man, who
Always books early,

And will gratefully
Pay extra for the exit row,

To trade my aisle seat
For her middle seat.

By asking me to change
My location for hers,

The woman is actually
Saying to me:

"Dear stranger, dear
Sir, my comfort is

More important than yours.
Dear solitary traveler,

My love and fear—
As contained

Within my marriage—
Are larger than yours.”

O, the insult!
O, the condescension!

And this is not 
An isolated incident.

I’ve been asked 
To trade seats

Twenty or thirty times
Over the years.

How dare you!
How dare you 

Ask me to change
My life for you!

How imperial!
How colonial!

But, ah, here is 
The strange truth:

Whenever I’m asked 
To trade seats

For somebody else’s love,
I do, I always do.

Sherman Alexie