Anonymous asked: So I was reading Patti Smith's Just Kids, and I came across the quote from Dianna's tattoo. Of course I thought of her, then you, because no1curr more about the meaning behind the words, and because you make everything about Achele glitter rainbows as god intended. What follows is the unabridged text surrounding the 'we become ourselves' line from Dianna's tattoo. Remember how it's all about context and also Achele and nothing hurts, etc? I have provided my EXCESSIVE AND DELIGHTFUL COMMENTARY in footnotes, and marked them off with bracketed numbers.

'What remains in my memory of the end of 1968 is Robert’s (1) worried
expression, the heavy snow, stillborn canvases, and a bit of respite provided
by the Rolling Stones. On my birthday Robert came to see me by himself. He
brought me a new record. He put the needle on side one and winked.
“Sympathy for the Devil” (2) came on and we both started dancing. “It’s my song,”
he said.


Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young
questions, and young answers were revealed.


It leads to each other (3). We become ourselves.

For a time Robert protected me (4), then was dependent on me, and then
possessive of me (5). His transformation was the rose of Genet, and he was
pierced deeply by his blooming. I too desired to feel more of the world. Yet
sometimes that desire was nothing more than a wish to go backward where
our mute light spread from hanging lanterns with mirrored panels. We had
ventured out like Maeterlinck’s children seeking the bluebird and were caught
in the twisted briars of our new experiences.


Robert responded as my beloved twin. His dark curls merged with the tangle
of my hair as I shuddered tears. He promised we could go back to the way
things were, how we used to be (6), promising me anything if I would only stop
crying (7).

A part of me wanted to do just that, yet I feared that we could never reach that
place again (8), but would shuttle back and forth like the ferryman’s children,
across our river of tears (9). I longed to travel, to Paris, to Egypt, to Samarkand,
far from him, far from us.


He too had a path to pursue and would have no choice but to leave me
behind.


We learned we wanted too much. We could only give from the perspective of
who we were and what we had. Apart, we were able to see with even greater
clarity that we didn’t want to be without each other (10).

I needed someone to talk to. I went home to New Jersey for my sister Linda’s
twenty-first birthday (11). We were both experiencing growing pains and we
comforted each other. I brought her a book of Jacques-Henri Lartigue
photographs, and as we leafed through the pages we had a longing to visit
France. We sat up through the night plotting, and before we said good night,
we had promised to go to Paris together, no small feat for two girls who had
never been on an airplane. '

FOOTNOTES:

1. FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS DISCUSSION, ROBERT MAPPLETHORPE IS LEA MICHELE.

2. DID BETTY AND VERONICA SELL THEIR SOULS TO THE DEVIL? DID BETTY AND RITA SIGN A CONTRACT WITH THE DEVIL THAT CONTAINED A MORALITY CLAUSE? LOL IDK.

3. ALL AGROADS LEAD TO LEA MICHELE, THANK YOU FOR PLAYING.

4. THAT MAN KISSED MY FREMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5. FUCKING SALAD.

6. ALL THE WORLD WAS GREEN FROM FEB-SEPT 2009.

7. Raise your hand if you’ve spent nights crying yourself to sleep.

8. SANTANACREYSGIF

9. TINACREYGIF

10. FUCKING MAGNETS. HOW DO THEY WORK?

11. FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS DISCUSSION, SISTER LINDA IS NAYA RIVERA AND ALSO LEXI. PARIS IS STILL PARIS.

FIRST. THIS ASK IS COMPRISED OF SO MUCH OVERWHELMING GENIUS IT HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR LIKE THREE DAYS WHILE I THOUGHT OF A PROPER RESPONSE. MY RESPONSE: 

THEN.
AND NOW.

Will my response will be as long as your message? Probably. Because I am going to LIVEBLOG MY RESPONSE TO YOU IN GIF FORM. 

So I was reading Patti Smith’s Just Kids, and I came across the quote from Dianna’s tattoo.

Oh you mean this little thing?

Of course I thought of her, then you, because no1curr more about the meaning behind the words, and because you make everything about Achele glitter rainbows as god intended.

GO AWWWWWNNNN!!!!! You had me at “TS YOU ARE A PERFECT  GENIUS HOW DO YOU EXIST”.

What follows is the unabridged text surrounding the ‘we become ourselves’ line from Dianna’s tattoo. Remember how it’s all about context and also Achele and nothing hurts, etc?

I am LITERALLY SHITTING MYSELF that you even read my blog. It’s all about CONTEXT CONTEXT CONTEXT. In 14,000 posts I have mentioned that maaaaayyyybbbeee three times. What even. I am tittilated and terrified. Tittilaterrified. 

I have provided my EXCESSIVE AND DELIGHTFUL COMMENTARY in footnotes, and marked them off with bracketed numbers.

Not gonna lie, I might already be in love with you. And herein is the postmodern on postmodern; wherein I quote a quote with footnotes with my own footnotes ABOUT the footnotes - in GIF form. Of course, cause that’s how we do in Tumblr Heights. 

‘What remains in my memory of the end of 1968 is Robert’s (1)

worried 
expression, the heavy snow, stillborn canvases, and a bit of respite provided
 by the Rolling Stones. On my birthday Robert came to see me by himself. He
brought me a new record. He put the needle on side one and winked.
“Sympathy for the Devil” (2)

came on and we both started dancing. “It’s my song,”
he said.
Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers were revealed.

It leads to each other (3). We become ourselves.

For a time Robert protected me (4), then was dependent on me, and then possessive of me (5).

His transformation was the rose of Genet, and he was pierced deeply by his blooming. I too desired to feel more of the world. Yet sometimes that desire was nothing more than a wish to go backward where our mute light spread from hanging lanterns with mirrored panels.

We had ventured out like Maeterlinck’s children seeking the bluebird and were caught in the twisted briars of our new experiences.

Robert responded as my beloved twin.

His dark curls merged with the tangle of my hair as I shuddered tears. He promised we could go back to the way things were, how we used to be (6),

promising me anything if I would only stop crying (7).

A part of me wanted to do just that, yet I feared that we could never reach that place again (8),

but would shuttle back and forth like the ferryman’s children, across our river of tears (9). I longed to travel, to Paris, to Egypt, to Samarkand,far from him, far from us.

He too had a path to pursue and would have no choice but to leave me behind.

We learned we wanted too much. We could only give from the perspective of who we were and what we had. Apart, we were able to see with even greater clarity that we didn’t want to be without each other (10).

I needed someone to talk to. I went home to New Jersey for my sister Linda’stwenty-first birthday (11). We were both experiencing growing pains and we comforted each other. I brought her a book of Jacques-Henri Lartigue photographs, and as we leafed through the pages we had a longing to visit France. We sat up through the night plotting, and before we said good night, we had promised to go to Paris together, no small feat for two girls who had never been on an airplane.