"The real work is how not to hang your self-worth, your sense of success and merits, the fullness of your heart, and the stability of your soul on those numbers—on that constant positive reinforcement and external validation."
Maria Popova (x)
Maria Popova (x)
Still in love with the #floralprint on my old school Italian house dress. #mercado #pattern
I love this old @mohawkpaper box that used to carry my zines… #springcleaning
My @landstudio coworkers know me too well! #journalsfordays #veryexciting #kerismith #cutecoworkers
Rookie: My friend who introduced me to your work told me how affecting it was for him to see your character in Fun Home, who, as a college student, sought out gay literature wherever she (you!) could find it. He said it reflected his coming-out experience of trying to find any character experiencing something even slightly similar to what he was going through. Do you ever hear from people that one of your works has been that text—the book they’ve searched for that actually relates to their lives?
AB: People have told me that, and it’s so amazing. You know, I could just die now and feel like I’ve done something useful. It’s funny—when I think back about that chapter, about my own searches—I was reading really depressing things like The Well of Loneliness, [the 1928 novel by Radclyffe Hall]. It makes me happy to think that I’ve provided updated alternatives to some of that stuff. It’s a huge honor, and a deep delight.
DTWOF was definitely that book for me. <3
The task of art is to transform what is continuously happening to us, to transform all these things into symbols, into music, into something which can last in man’s memory. That is our duty. If we don’t fulfill it, we feel unhappy. A writer or any artist has the sometimes joyful duty to transform all that into symbols. These symbols could be colors, forms or sounds. For a poet, the symbols are sounds and also words, fables, stories, poetry. The work of a poet never ends. It has nothing to do with working hours. Your are continuously receiving things from the external world. These must be transformed, and eventually will be transformed. This revelation can appear anytime. A poet never rests. He’s always working, even when he dreams. Besides, the life of a writer, is a lonely one. You think you are alone, and as the years go by, if the stars are on your side, you may discover that you are at the center of a vast circle of invisible friends whom you will never get to know but who love you. And that is an immense reward.