http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2013/5/20/good-better-bestor.html

Colour is great! And what is better than colour? More colour. Don't get me wrong. I love a taste of Scandi boho white mixed with timber floors and midcentury goodies so imagine great big swathes of saturated colour like a palette knife across a canvas or a cake. Yes! Colour is the icing on this cake! Fabulous family home by Bestor Architecture.

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/let-my-people-pee-in-scotland.html

http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2013/5/20/green-with-envy.html

Wrap it up and bring it here. No wrap me up and deliver me there. Whatever! But just make sure that I'm cooking up a storm in the kitchen of this Silver Lake house by Bestor Architecture. California cool. Green with envy? You betcha. The only thing better would be ...

... another green kitchen by Barbara Bestor and her design team. Now I can't make up my mind. Sometimes you just got to have colour!

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/rev-sally-mcclain-retires.html

http://xkcd.com/1214/

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/justinemusk/~3/kWdS82thhpI/

http://justinemusk.com/?p=7117

“Creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence.” — Osho

I [state your name] hereby declare that I am a Creative Rebel, also known as a Creative Badass, and that I am either Female or a great friend of the Female or in touch with my inner Feminine, my Soul. As such, I believe the following:

My creative ambition, however it chooses to express itself, is my birthright. It is central to who I am. It involves the need to play, to experiment, to make a mess, to embrace the great beauty of imperfection, to understand that there are no mistakes. It requires that I wander and dream and expose myself to interesting things and follow up on what catches my fancy.

Thus, it might not always seem that I am quote-unquote “being productive”, but I shall trust that deep forces are at work, even when it appears said forces have gone to Tahiti.

Creativity moves through me and happens in the spaces between myself and others, myself and my materials. It is my job as a Creative Rebel to find those persons and materials that light me up, and to steadily extract myself from relationships and situations that are eating away at my soul. I have only one soul, and I do not wish to lose it, trade it in or misplace it.

Putting a dent in the universe is all very well, assuming the universe is some steely mechanism, but I am not into swinging a sledgehammer. I wish to track my deepest nature and be a point of light in the web that connects us all. I will help keep the darkness at bay.

I reserve the right to excellent footwear, and fine chocolate when necessary.

I recognize that I have both a Soulvoice and a Worldly Chorus. My Soulvoice would have me reveal my innate genius by becoming exactly who I am. It guides me to my unique and sacred purpose. The Worldly Chorus would have me slice off pieces of myself to fit someone else’s agenda. My challenge is to listen to the one and navigate the other, preferably with wit and savvy and the occasional shot of tequila.

I acknowledge that my creative life is the shifting accumulation of the choices I make about how I use my time and energy and engage, or fail to engage, in the radical acts of self-care. Each decision leads me away from or toward what I want, even if what I want is a better understanding of just what the hell I want.

I shall henceforth feed my head all sorts of wondrous and inspiring images on a daily or near-daily basis.

I understand that for all my attempts to plan, predict and control things, I live and work against a backdrop of mystery. Our actions ripple out along the invisible lines that connect us: our friends and our friends’ friends and our friends’ friends’ friends. By saving myself, I can also save others.

I understand that the universe keeps secrets much bigger than I am. I shall find my work, and do my work, and let go of the fruits of my labor. The universe knows what to do with them. I shall move on, turn the page, begin again.

I acknowledge that the influence a Creative Person sends into the world isn’t measured by how famous she is or the wealth she accumulates or the amount of wild sex she is having. People become icons when they embody some aspect of the zeitgeist; their very identity tells a story that the rest of us need to hear, that eases some anxiety inside us. Some people have a flair for this. It’s their gift. I might have different gifts. My story is also worth telling.

I acknowledge that failure is a part of all great stories. In order to overcome something, I have to have something to overcome. The meaning is in the struggle: how it forces me to change and deepen and grow in the ashes. The old self must die, so the new self can rise and turn pain to power, wounds to light, however much this may suck at the time.

And now, because it is time to end this thing and go have the Coffee, I [state your name] do hereby swear to Own It.

And also to Bring It.

Signed:

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/justinemusk/~3/EwaL3DbPPRk/

http://justinemusk.com/?p=7086

I was exchanging emails with a writer of a novel I admired, when he asked me how my own work was going.

It goes in fits + starts, I wrote, partly I think because I didn’t have enough distance from the real-life things that inspired it. I lacked clarity. Also, afraid to write some of it, which I take as a good + promising sign.

He agreed that it was a good and promising sign, because that meant “the stakes are what they ought to be.”

I loved that response, and told him so, and he came back with an anecdote about a well-respected writer he knew who was judging a literary contest and reading through the novels that had been nominated and finding them well-written, yes, very much so, but…uninteresting…because there’s nothing in the way for the writer. There’s no obstacle. Nothing real is at stake.

All of which I think is another way of saying, The writer failed to go there.

Going there is about working along the nerve, slicing open your inner life. click to tweet Whether it’s tapping into confession, fantasy, or simply what you really think, this kind of writing isn’t safe. You’re stepping forward with a bold point of view, allowing yourself to move along the lines of your instincts instead of the wellworn grooves of what’s already out there.

When you go there, you know it. You’ve got real soulskin in the game.

Origin means the point at which something comes into existence: the source. To write in an original voice means to write from your source. Every story in the world has been told a million times…except when filtered through the prism of your perspective, your experiences and talent and worldview, grounded in the details of your private landscape. To write this way, original and fierce, means to show yourself, and not the glossy and practiced persona but the creature who lives behind that.

It means to throw down.

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/this-week-in-2013-texas-lege-week.html

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/let-damian-walk-in-male-cap-and-gown.html

http://tigerbeatdown.com/2013/05/19/nonverbal-feminism-femfuture/

http://tigerbeatdown.com/?p=5064

Feminism drove me to a nervous breakdown.

Not “callout culture,” not Feminist critique, not having people criticize my work — those were all things that happened to me that convinced me that my way of practicing it was wrong. So I did what a scientist does — I modeled it. In my head. I absorbed the basic structure and then tried to resolve all of its internal consistencies. This was project my brain labeled “becoming a perfect Feminist” and the way it worked was

• Feminism=“Yes”
• You=“Yes/No”
• If Feminism=“Yes”
• You=“No”

The result of this neural program? Any problem you have with Feminism is a problem with YOU. If you have a problem with the truths of Feminism, Feminism isn’t wrong, you are wrong.

My hypothesis? Feminism recapitulates phylogeny. Feminism is structured this way because of the way it developed.

The first problem of Feminism? Physical. How do you keep good people in while bouncing the hostile pricks that want to derail everything? [A good model for this is the Battlestar Galactica, which was designed in such a way that the Cylons couldn’t use the human's tech against them] The next problem? The biases of its greatest champions. [A good model for this is YOU, what biases and prejudices did you bring to Feminism that you learned were just flat out wrong? How did Feminism give you a better grasp on why those with more societal pressures behaved the way they did?]

Why are alarm bells going off in your head? A system built to solve the problem of authority will always default to that question when it is scared. “Problematic” is a defense mechanism that functions much the same way “evil” or “bad” does, and it utilizes the same mental structures. Humans need two modes: Friend Mode/Foe Mode. Friend Mode assumes everyone sees the world the same way we do, Foe Mode disengages the verbal faculty (the last part of the brain to be added and therefore the most vulnerable point of defense) and treats information/behavior from that source as irrelevant to possibly damaging.

If someone is hurting you, you do not need to give a shit why they are doing it. If someone is your buddy, you want to know why they do things, how they operate. This is why everyone who has been in Feminism for more than 3 seconds is problematic. When we fuck up, our words stop mattering, in a real way.

But I don’t need my verbal faculty to show you Feminism, I can model it for you. This requires a moving image, which not all of you can look at but which I will model for you verbally and put behind a cut.

The Gif is of a Stadium Kiss Cam. The couple in the center goes through this motion over and over again: he is on the phone, she tries to draw his attention to the fact that they are on the kiss cam, he dismisses her, she dumps a drink in his lap in disgust. Over and over again this motion is repeated, as if in a dream. Since the people around them in the visual field are also viewing this action they each respond to it:

1. An old white man flashes a look of disgust.
2. The woman next to him has a blank expression.
3. The woman next to her looks shocked but proud.
4. A woman of color in the back stands up and claps
5. Another woman of color in the back scoots forward, enthused
6. The man of color next to her looks confused.
7. The older man of color a few seats over from him claps
8. The woman in the front row looks anxious and distracted, then shocked.
9. A little blond boy behind the central couple smiles.

The more intersections a person has, the more likely they are to react to disrespectful behavior in a visceral way.

The woman in the front row is shocked because she wasn’t watching the action, she was focused on what she looked like because she’s fat. The expression she has on her face is the thousands of eyes she feels on herself at that moment.

The woman next to the old man cannot afford to incur his wrath by showing outward support

The young man of color in the back is thinking that was a little much, but he doesn’t flash disgust

The older man of color applauds

The younger women of color both move forward

The little boy smiles.

[The Gif is below, it is a moving image but does not contain flashing lights.]

The problem? The stimuli that prompted these reactions looks really fucking fake. The only people I don’t believe in this gif are the couple in the center.

Why does this matter to you? Feminism as it is practiced now is highly, highly, highly predictable. Anything that can be predicted can be controlled.

Any questions?

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/WriterUnboxed/~3/Fhoku8ZKfzM/

http://writerunboxed.com/?p=20962

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/reconciling-ministries-churchquake.html

http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2013/5/19/blog-favourites-as-of-late.html

the ortitz via 79 Ideas 

trettien [31]

trettien [31]

Dynamisk Salong

Jonas Ingerstedt via Sfgirlbybay

helt enkelt

MøbelPøbel

Deisgn*Sponge

A Merry Mishap

Vosgesparis

Stylizimo

tonemelonedesign

Huset ved fjorden

BoBedre via La maison d'Anna G.

Stadshem via my scandinavian home

Elle Interiör via ROOM and serve

Norm Architects via NOE PÅ HJERTET

http://southernfriedchicas.com/2013/05/19/26-signs/

http://southernfriedchicas.com/?p=14318

http://redeemingqualities.wordpress.com/2013/05/18/love-insurance/

http://redeemingqualities.wordpress.com/?p=2418

I was in the mood for something light and funny the other day, so I went to see what the internet had to offer in the way of non-Charlie Chan novels by Earl Derr Biggers. I found Love Insurance, which was exactly what I was looking for, except in that it didn’t really thrill me in any way.

The premise is kind of excellent, to a point, and if the book had revolved around Owen Jephson, underwriter for Lloyd’s of London, I think I would have liked it more. Jephson specializes in insuring incedibly peculiar things: he’s insured an actor against losing weight, a duchess against rain at her garden party, etc. I want very badly for Herbert George Jenkins to have written a book about Jephson, but sadly the world doesn’t work that way. And Biggers is more concerned first with Allan, Lord Harrowby, who wants to insure his wedding date, and then, more centrally, with Dick Minot, who Lloyd’s sends to Florida and protect their assets by making sure that Harrowby’s wedding to the beautiful Cynthia Meyrick goes as planned. Minot, inevitably, falls in love with Cynthia almost at first sight, and that’s only the first of many complications — there are jewel thieves, long-lost relatives, blackmail, and a society matron who hires a guy to write bon mots for her. And that list barely scrapes the surface.

In general, I really, really like about the first 3/4 of any given Earl Derr Biggers book, but this one felt more consistent. I never liked it as much as the beginning of Seven Keys to Baldpate or The Agony Column, but I liked it pretty much equally all the way through. Possibly that was because it was pretty intensely predictable, but that was okay, beasue it was all pretty silly and fun, too.

This is one of those books I sort of vaguely like but can’t work up any enthusiasm about, and I don’t know whether that’s my fault, or if it’s that Biggers didn’t expend any effort on characterization, or that the most interesting character disappeared after the first few chapters or what. I suspect a lot of people will enjoy it more than I did.

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/WriterUnboxed/~3/oVZ4gBv-mog/

http://writerunboxed.com/?p=21566

http://www.desiretoinspire.net/blog/2013/5/18/the-baudelaire-family-home.html

What a wonderful family home, full of light and a life well lived. Children and music and friends and entertaining. A kitchen as the centre of it all and everywhere  a casual sense of style. Long time reader Kimberley and her husband Adam have sadly sold this house and moved on but Kimberley assures me that it is to another renovation adventure. So without further ado I present to you a wonderful Australian home, the Baudelaire family home.

P.S. You can see before and afters here.

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/israeli-school-firing-award-winning.html

http://zettaelliott.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/day-of-the-dead/

http://zettaelliott.wordpress.com/?p=6055

There’s a reading tonight hosted by the Pan-African Writers Association (PAWA) but I was simply too tired to attend; I think jet lag is finally setting in so I opted to stay at the hotel, order room service, and work on my presentation on “configuring the past and present.” I can hear a preacher screaming “Hallelujah!” outside—there must be a church nearby. I’m watching Ghana TV and a women’s show, The Standpoint, just ended—the Oprah equivalent Dr. Gifty had guests and experts on to discuss life after your husband’s death. This has been a day of death, in a way—today’s program ended with an emotional tribute to Jayne Cortez, OWWA co-founder who passed suddenly last December. I only met Jayne twice but it was clear to me that she was a formidable woman. I was surprised to find myself shedding a few tears during the tribute; I watched Ama Ata Aidoo being helped to her feet—someone holding her cane, someone else holding the mic so her hands were free to hold the bowl—and then she spoke in Fante because she knew Jayne wouldn’t want a libation prayer to be said in English. She had to pause midway to pull a kerchief from her blouse and it was very moving to see this elder weeping for her lost friend. They met in the 1970s so that’s a friendship that lasted nearly fifty years, and I couldn’t help but think to myself, “That will be us someday.” I feel so blessed to be here with my close friends—my life has been enriched and enlarged because of these incredible black women who don’t have the anxiety issues that make me too risk-averse and too content to stay at home. Would I have come to Ghana without them? Maybe, but I’m grateful that they continue to ”lift me as they climb.”

I don’t think I can do justice to the four panels I attended today. The first was on getting your work out into the world, and moderator Tara Betts (right, with Camille Dungy) drew rich insights from the three panelists. Latasha Diggs (below right, with Gabrielle Civil)reminded us that it’s not *always* about the book—having one doesn’t make you legitimate, doing the WORK and getting it out there (by yourself, if necessary) is what matters most along with building community. How can you ward off competition between you and your fellow writers? Hang with musicians and other artists working in different media. Kadija George Sesay, publisher of Sable magazine, urged self-publishers to register their publications and get an ISBN/ISSN; that means your work can be catalogued, archived, and then you can be certain that you’re leaving a record behind.

During the brief break Michelle Martin and I went down to the book vendors and did a bit of shopping. No more books! I think I’ve bought ten so far, mostly for my nieces and nephew, though I got a couple of novels for myself today. It’s so wonderful to have the authors sign their books, too. I had lunch with Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro and was thrilled to get an English translation of her novel, Carapace. She and her partner Zulma also wrote out a list of Afro-Latino women writers whose work is available in English. I want to add more Latina content to my Black Women in the Americas class. I was disturbed to learn that Yolanda and Zulma were harassed and threatened in the Osu market earlier this week, but it was wonderful to learn that their homeland of Puerto Rico recently passed legislation protecting the rights of LGBT people. Maybe the jetlag is making me emotional or maybe it’s just being in the presence of so many amazing women—I feel protective of everyone! Protective and powerless at the same time. I should switch gears and go work on my talk because these are the issues I want to address: is it enough to rewrite history, to write black women back into the historical record through art and/or scholarship, or must we MAKE history ourselves? I feel like history is made by women who are bolder than me, but maybe that’s just what I want to believe…

The afternoon panel on Africa, the diaspora, and children’s literature was great. One Ghanaian panelist talked about the need to ensure that girls on the continent have access to education—whether it’s in a traditional school, via cell phone, or on the radio. Another Nigerian panelist, Akachi Ezeigbo, talked about her decision to write girls as heroines in her books for young readers, and Michelle Martin captivated the audience with her slideshow and talk on hair politics in children’s picture books. Deborah Ahenkorah doubled as panelist and moderator and had a chance to share her innovative strategies for getting books into the hands of Ghanaian kids. “If we can send a man to Mars, we can ensure that Ghanaian children have culturally relevant, quality books!” Stay tuned for an interview with Deborah in the next day or two…

The fourth panel was intense; four writers talked about their activism and the ways they channel the ancestors in order to better serve their community around issues like environmental justice and domestic violence. You can learn more about the important, community-based projects coordinated by Angelique Nixon’s nonprofit Ayiti Resurrect. Moderator (and friend!) Ira Dworkin moderated and gave us all an update on the challenges facing women writers in Egypt. You can learn more about the threats facing Mona Prince here.

Ok, time to turn in. I haven’t actually left the hotel compound yet so I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s lineup, which includes a performance by Wura-Natasha Ogunji, Rosamond S. King, and Gabrielle Civil. We start here and then finish at the seashore…

http://transgriot.blogspot.com/2013/05/puerto-rican-senate-passes-trans.html

http://persephonereads.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/relish-my-life-in-the-kitchen-lucy-knisley/

http://persephonereads.wordpress.com/?p=15311

Publisher’s Summary:
“Lucy Knisley loves food. The daughter of a chef and a gourmet, this talented young cartoonist comes by her obsession honestly. In her forthright, thoughtful, and funny memoir, Lucy traces key episodes in her life thus far, framed by what she was eating at the time and lessons learned about food, cooking, and life.”

Relish was my answer to having to read a food memoir for work. (One of two food memoirs, actually, which is asking a lot of this fiction-only-please reader.) And, you know, it was a damn fine choice, if I do say so myself. First off, it’s a graphic novel. All of the lovely, lovingly drawn illustrations make settling in with non-fiction infinitely easier, because, speaking for myself, I know that the “long haul” isn’t going to actually be all that long. What would typically take me months to read flies by in a matter of hours spent looking at colorful details rather than solely reading – and promptly forgetting – them. Plus, Knisley’s recounting of her childhood, split between the city and the country but with food at its heart no matter where she found herself, was lively and engaging.

The book leads off with this:

How do you remember things? What are your clearest memories?…My most vivid memories consistently jog my brain with the recollection of how things tasted…Sometimes it’s frustrating, this selective memory. I can remember exactly the look and taste of a precious honey stick, balanced between my berry-stained fingers, but my times tables are long gone, forgotten, in favor of better, tastier memories.

Right then and there I knew Knisley and I were going to get along. One, what are times tables? If ever I knew them by heart I’ve also forgotten them, given them up to let favorite characters, songs, and scents have those pesky numbers’ place in my mind. Two, those things I just mentioned – books and certain scents, but music specifically – are very much associated with memories and my own stories of growing up. So I understood where she was going to be coming from with this memoir; I had a sense that tagging along into her past would be fun, and it so happened I was right on that score.

Along with stories about her days working alongside her mother at farmers’ markets, traveling with her father, and pursuing her education in Chicago are recipes, including one for chocolate chip cookies that you better believe I’ll be trying ASAP. The recipes seem easy to follow and are completely illustrated (of course).

Relish is a quick treat in and of itself.

http://everythingmusicals.com/everything_i_know_i_learn/2013/05/review-the-hypocrites-the-pirates-of-penzance-at-the-art-.html