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She [Mary Maclane] is almost always referred to as “confessional.” She has been referred to, several times, as the first blogger. Whereas her writing does not confess much - it is much more spiritual memoir than anything, or perhaps something akin to a mystic’s courtly love, directed at the self. I am wondering what distinguishes writing as confessional… I keep on feeling I prefer the latter-day MacLane, the diary she wrote while convalescing from scarlet fever back home in Butte, Montana, I, Mary MacLane, that Melville House is only publishing as an ebook. Mary MacLane melancholy, totally isolated. Feeling intense disquiet. Now in her early thirties, meditating on her whirlwind celebrity, in cities, feeling distanced from all that, but longing for it too. Obsessed with the Mary MacLane who stopped writing, or stopped publishing books, who was involved with the anarchist/bohemian crowd in Chicago, with the Dill Pickle, who died in poverty and obscurity on the South Side at the age of 48. I want to write about her, but I don’t know how or why yet. ↗
#mary-maclane #memoir #writing #age
Adara, cease!" She froze at the sound of a voice she hadn't expected to hear. For a moment she thought she might be dreaming, until she blinked to look up into the most handsome face she'd ever known. She stared at the same blue eyes that made the tenderest of love to her. Christian. Her grip went lax and the candlestick in her hand fell to the floor. He was alive! She threw herself into his arms and held him close as giddy tears replaced her grief-induced ones. At least until her rage took hold again. "Damn you, you worthless, heartless son of a dog!" she snarled, pulling back to strike at his chest. "How dare you make me think you were dead! Don't you ever do such a thing to me again. " Christian was stunned by her language and actions. "I didn't know you could hear us through the door." She struck him again on his armor, a blow that no doubt he felt not at all, but it gave her some degree of satisfaction. "Well, think better next time." Her untoward anger amused him. Wiping the tears from her face, he kissed her tenderly. ↗
It's like the old question, "Do you lock your house to keep people out, or to protect what's inside?" Should a person act modestly and dress modestly in order to prevent intrusion from the outside, undesirable things from happening, or to preserve and maintain what is inside: the delicate and sensitive ability to have and maintain an intimate relationship. ↗
#intimacy #modesty #relationships #women-s-inspirational #art
I watch as the waves interlace and entwine around one another, free of pattern or routine. They collide and wrestle like oblivious children, naïve to the absence to naïvety. Careless to the absence of carelessness. And I know what I want. I want to play, I want to live, I want to breathe. I want to experience the basic human lust for life itself. I want to bask in the imperfections of nature, bathe in the elaborate simplicity of our tiny world, relish in the beauty of culture, art and love. I know what I want, but the essence of need is another question entirely. ↗
See, the institutions and specialist, experts, you see. Yes, yes, experts, indeed. See, they would have us believe that there is an order to art. An explanation. Humans are odd creatures in that way. Always searching for a formula. Yes, a formula to create an expected norm for unexplainable greatness. A cook book you might say. Yes, a recipe book for life, love, and art. However, my dear, let me tell you. Yes, there is no such thing. Every individual is unique in their own design, as intended by God himself. We classify, yes, always must we classify, for if not, then we would be lost, yes lost now wouldn't we? Classification, order, expectations, but alas, we forget. For what is art, if not the out word expression of an artist. It is the soul of the artisan and if his expectations are met, than who are we to judge whether his work be art or not? ↗
Mastering the art of aloneness doesn't mean living in isolation or never needing the love, support, and involvement of others. It means creating and living a life in which you feel whole and content as an individual on your own; a life in which you can take care of yourself emotionally and financially. ↗
