Do you remember the time you were at Chipotle and you saw the lady with four children in tow and after ordering the food, four bowls total, she realized she didn’t have any money? And so you paid it for her?
And that was your kindness.
Obviously kindness, clearly kindness, without-a-doubt-kindness. As I read the poem by Aracelis Girmay titled “On Kindness”, I wondered about subtle forms of it, like when it isn’t just a hug or a peck or buying someone’s burrito bowls, but is, instead, your telling a wailing women you love her because she is yelling I want to kill myself I want to kill myself.
That love—that’s kindness too.
There are other forms of it that Aracelis Girmay writes about in her poem. The mail lady who says “hi baby” to you, and to the girl beside you, and to her cousin, and to her cousin’s best friend. The window that filters in light on a heady Sunday morning, reminding you have made it another day you’re alive you’re alive. The dog that comes panting up to you, looking overjoyed to see you, you, you—and that is kindness, too.
December 10th, 2013 // 12:50:00 pm
On the car ride home I detected, from the smoky poof of our deep conversation, wispy strands of respect in your eyes.
I really like people who have kind eyes. People with kind eyes are compassionate, and compassionate people have kind eyes. And kind people are beautiful and nice to talk to, and you can see it in their eyes. -trails off into a tune due to wordy redundancy-
But people can have normal eyes. People can have snarky eyes. People can have flat eyes that hover between life and lifelessness. And people can have sly eyes or suspicious eyes or cold, hard and dull eyes.
As my art teacher once cried: “Eyes are the window to the soul. Serendipity!”
I thought it was spelled “Sarahn Dipity” and wheeled around. “Who’s that?”
Sometimes I’ll miss people for their eyes. Whenever I have little moments of peering into people’s eyes, I’ll take a small creepy note of the types of eyes they have: far set, close-set, deep-creased, light-creased, blue or black or green or tan. Search for clues of their soul window decor. Like curtains of kindness or meanness or tiredness, or sadness.
Those with kind eyes are the ones who emanate the wisps of respect. Those with unkind eyes are the ones who pretend nothing ever happened.
Perused through my old Tumblr and found this old post from 2013. I remembered the exact moment I marinated in these thoughts. Again with the winding roads and a heart full of resentment.
But less than three years later, puedo decir con confianza: all hail the force of forgiveness. They will sweep through your heart’s city and burn down houses of bitterness. For the better, ‘course, and I’m glad they did.
blare from the
on saks 5th ave
bustle of bodies
of tourists shuffling
from one street to the next
of families waffling
of citygoers incensed
we dart into stores
pretend to be buddy
pretend we’re at gimbels
pretend we’re all elves
when we leave the store
we weave the crowds ’til we reach
the rockefeller tree
it stands in all its large
like a small building it
its evergreen branches
of rainbow LED
with our iphones
we pretend to snatch
rockefeller with our fingers
check the time–oh,
time’s almost up
we’ve got 50 blocks to go and
30 minutes til
the bus leaves!
the uber goes, but then we’re stuck
so! we run, run, run to the
station, skid through
/take a picture of me!/
psychedelic ads screaming
from the boardsmake it just in time
watermelon soju sloshing
in our stomachs
this! is the magic of christmas with
the magic of new york
smothered and buttered
with HOLIDAY CHEER
with honey greek yogurt matcha tea boba
with carbonara pasta rich red wine
with all the sights and lights and
people to see
what a merry(ish)
Film is so beautiful and nostalgic.
I picked up a small love for film about four year ago. I’d been sitting in Econ lecture, scrolling through artists and photographers when I stumbled upon a photographer.
A year after gathering a small appreciation (obsession) for film, I took a black and white film class.We took pictures in black and white and processed them in the darkroom, shot with borrowed Canon cameras.
I photographed strangers, artwork, puppies, toys, store fronts….so on and so forth. It was then that I realized: there is so much whimsicalness in the world. So much strangeness and beauty! The panda head human: a stranger. The toy train: more strangers. I began to shift my perception, seeing my surroundings in blacks and whites, hues and gradients, shadows and bright spots.
In the dark room, we removed the film from the tube in a room devoid of light. With washes and chemicals and timers, we processed the small rolls of copper-colored film until they were ready to hang and dry.
Then we brought the dried film into the darkroom, where we each had our own space to magnify the film images, invert them, and light-print onto a piece of light-sensitive paper. Afterwards, we doused the paper film in another long process of chemicals and washes before the sheet was finally ready to dry.
Processing film by hand was tedious, but fun.
I found an old film camera (a Canon snappy LX) about a year ago while cleaning out the house, and ordered some Superia film in. I’ve been slowly, slowly photographing with it. I have….six rolls of film to shoot.
When I look at other’s images taken on Canon Snappy’s online, they look like the photographs my parents used to take decades ago, when film was all they had.
Your freckles were constellations in the sky. Time-lapse digital painting of Emily B.
Started a reading challenge project mid-spring of 2017. The goal: read 100 books
by summer in a year. I’m inching along, albeit at a slower pace than I’d like. Figured posting the list on my blog would hold me accountable–also, I get to share cool books!
So here’s a list of books I’ve reading; I plan to update every 10 books or so. If you have any book recommendations, I’d love to hear them! 🙂