Leave It To Man Ray to Make Bitches Look Hot

I've been investigating Beckett, again, as of late.

I've read him.

I've seen him.

I've had a disproportionate amount of white men who are known rapists tell me I would like his work. 

Yeah. I get that it's supposed to lend all philosophers and pseudo-philosophers big vats of lube to jerk off with.  That the deliberateness of movement (get your mind out of the gutter) and intense investigation into the everyday is supposed to make one think about life and what is it but a bunch of moments?  What are we waiting for? Oh, it is not for Godot- it is the very process of waiting. To die or for something to happen. Blah blah and blah.

Godot is boring.  Krapp's Last Tape was like being forced to sit through the rant and mundane actions of the craziest white straight man riding public transit for three hours.  If anything the two inspired me to use my time here for something else. Anything else.

(Full disclosure: Come and Go was really fucking good.)

That said, I still plan on reading Endgame and going to see it.  It's Endgame that the non-rapists tend to favor.  Go figure.

(pause)

Hot-ass bitch as documented by Man Ray (1923)

I've been reading the poetry of Ezra Pound and admiring his profile.  Not his profile of involving himself in fascist shit, but rather, the actual profile of his face.

A few poems that have been sitting with me are (follow the links to read) A Pact, Francesca, and one other poem that I will keep to myself for now.

As the title suggests, leave it to the infamous Man Ray to make bitches look hot.  Check out Man Ray's photo of Ezra Pound and his fabulous and drool-inducing profile,  up and to the right.

 (pause)

Now go back to the top to admire that throat,

as per usual.




be well; be loved,

k.


(top image from Tobias Rocks Tumblr. The image is not by Man Ray; The other image from the Man Ray collection of hot ass bitches)