The Subtweet

I wish we could go back to that moment. The discovering each other phase. The addictive self-revelation through another's eyes phase.

What was it about whiteness that seemed to elicit an infinite spring of faith and second chances?

She always knew she was on the verge of invention at the precise moment when originality felt impossible. That instead of surrendering to despair, she would needle in and out and through her brain until an idea surfaced ― naked, stripped of predictability and familiarity. By embedding herself into her song, she muted any risk of passing off mimicry as art. Why wasn’t fully committing to creation more desirable than observing what everyone else was doing and doing the same?

Falling in love with theory was not unlike falling in love with a human.

I just spend a lot of time alone in my apartment, and my favorite moments are the rare ones that are word-free, thought-free, tweet-free.

Unlike many artists, she had never considered herself a mere vessel for the muse, or a medium, or even a parent. Her songs weren't her "babies". Her songs were her.

This is how Selfhood began. For me to rediscover my independence, I had to slow down and tune into my body again.

For me to rediscover my independence, I had to slow down and tune into my body again.

One way or another, white people always found a way to fuck a brown woman over.