“I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art.”
I love the dark hours of my being in which my senses drop into the deep. I have found in them, as in old letters, My private life, that is already lived through, And become wide and powerful now, like legends. Then I know that there is room in me For a second huge and timeless life.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Selected Poems, Robert Bly translation
“When you’re writing, you’re trying to find out something which you don’t know. The whole language of writing for me is finding out what you don’t want to know, what you don’t want to find out. But something forces you to anyway.”
If I believed in a god, he would be a sea god, like the sea in its predictability—now approach, now recede—beneath such a god I would not mind, I think, being the shore, say of the sea what you will, it’s the shore that endures the routine loss without which what strategies would there be for softening the hollowness that any victory, give it time, comes with, how curb the risk of arrogance, with its doomed but not undangerous hound, complacency? … I made this for you— put it on. I know it’s not going to matter whether the decisions I made were the ones eventually I even meant to make, or should have, or should have thought maybe more than twice about. What’s history anyway, except—according to the latest mouth saying so—just what happened: I flourished undramatically, to no apparent purpose, like pretty much everyone. The sea dragged the shore; the shore suffered the sea.
First, I’d like to have a disclaimer that this is my first “music” post since 2017, which is frightful and embarrassing. There has been a flood of great music that I missed writing about. I won’t be able to catch up, unfortunately. We are just going to start now — and enter the present moment. Hope you understand. xoxo – H
Her name is Mikaela Straus. Her essence is King Princess. This Brooklyn-based goddess entered the scene with single “1950,” and has spiraled up into queer stardom now working with Mark Ronson. (If you’d like more intel, Spotify has a really great bio that you are not going to read here, but here.) I’m impressed mostly with her vocals and her attitude of self-producing. She seems to have grown up in a recording studio by result of her parents being recording artists.
After absorbing more of King Princess, I have come to the conclusion that she’s full of herself — to which I think, as opposed to what?What else should she be full of? She ought to be full of herself. We all should be full of ourselves. And this is the magic of KP. Her fullness is not “conceited,” her fullness is focused. She’s focused on being exactly who she is on every level and sharing that with us as listeners. It’s brave and heart-felt. Musically smart, and, just wow. So I’m obsessed.
If you’re not already listening to her, my top 2 starter songs are “Talia” and “Holy.”
September is about new beginnings. Listen to KP for a new beginning in self-love and self-expression. Be unafraid of who you are.
This first video below is King Princess talking with other people about who they truly are, too. (I love this.) And Mikaela, if you read this, can we be friends, like right now?! I’m rooting for you. ❤
As it happened, I was twirling a cauliflower floret, lost in Lewis’s wardrobe of pallid trees, considering my country’s longing for homogenized milk & bags of tube socks from Walmart, which felt cancerous. What came to me like a surprise snowfall in the soft evening of a snow globe, one has to pinch salt and sprinkle in the palm, repeatedly, especially when the temperature in mother’s trailer has begun to drop. In this way, after your Constitution fades you’ve your own hourglass and no one else to blame.