Showing posts with label unsent letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unsent letters. Show all posts
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, September 13, 2009
dear lorrie moore
even though your paean to being twenty is, in fact, lovely and insightful, i would ask that you reconsider the universal age of passion. it's actually seventeen.
love,
carol
"Here’s the thing about being 20 years old. It’s actually the universal age of passion. It’s the age at which nature and form come together and your individual passion achieves its final shape and expression. When, later in life, when you’re older, you feel furious, it’s the fury of a 20-year-old. When you fall in love, it’s the love of a 20-year-old. It’s articulate, it’s visceral, it’s platonic. It’s the pure form of the emotion. When you observe the hypocrisies and injustices of the world, and feel shocked and betrayed by them, you’re actually being 20 again. And yet, you’re just shy of being able to drink. How perfectly completed, and thwarted, at the same time."
-lorrie moore
love,
carol
"Here’s the thing about being 20 years old. It’s actually the universal age of passion. It’s the age at which nature and form come together and your individual passion achieves its final shape and expression. When, later in life, when you’re older, you feel furious, it’s the fury of a 20-year-old. When you fall in love, it’s the love of a 20-year-old. It’s articulate, it’s visceral, it’s platonic. It’s the pure form of the emotion. When you observe the hypocrisies and injustices of the world, and feel shocked and betrayed by them, you’re actually being 20 again. And yet, you’re just shy of being able to drink. How perfectly completed, and thwarted, at the same time."
-lorrie moore
Friday, May 22, 2009
t-minus 3 hours: prelude to a vuelo
dear airport security,
i hope my riding crop brings a smile to your face when you break open my luggage in your zeal to ascertain my level of terrorist connection (and its clever juxtaposition with nick bourriaud's relational aesthetics, natch!). and if it doesn't, then by god, there is no light in your life.
love,
carol
i hope my riding crop brings a smile to your face when you break open my luggage in your zeal to ascertain my level of terrorist connection (and its clever juxtaposition with nick bourriaud's relational aesthetics, natch!). and if it doesn't, then by god, there is no light in your life.
love,
carol
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About Me
- carola rola
- I unofficially take photographs and charm people for a living. Officially, I received a B.F.A. from Cornell University, and am now on the West Coast making websites, planting gardens, and damning the man. Be my friend at carol[dot]why[dot]zou[at]gmail[dot]com.