Taste literally dictates the techniques of our bodies. It is a social orientation that shows us our place in the world. What we love, what we hate, what “works” for us, it is inventively a combo of where we’ve come from, and where we think we’re going. Taste is not an object, but a process: a series of framings and refinements which lead one’s particular image of perfection. And because everything is, to some degree, subsumed by fashion, even our images of perfection are up for grabs, changing constantly, mutating from one hotness to another. Quality might be said to be the end product of the process of taste: the essence that’s left after the acid test: the nectar of resolution that becomes exemplary.
- Barbara Kruger (via blua)
A Sequence of Events
It’s not that I was sad prior to when I met you; it’s that you gave me a form of happiness that did not exist before.
I like to think that I was meant to meet you.
It was a Sunday. It looked as if it was about to rain, but that didn’t stop Tina and me from sitting on the sidewalk of Cooper Square, doodling with chalk as everyone played frisbee and volleyball next to us. And the fear of meeting new people did not stop Ghazal and her cousin from coming over and talking to us, or inviting us to a party later.
I’m grateful it didn’t rain, that I didn’t go to the Midnight Cruise with the rest of my friends, that I ended up going to that kid’s party, that you took my number, and asked me out for coffee the next day.
And that I said yes.