Five Star's 311th Great Blog Roundup Is Brought to You By Holly Black
This week's Five Star roundup is brought to you by reading at length, meeting people where they're at, creating more inclusivity in sports, the reality of Africa, the relief of making a statement, the gift of epilepsy, photography and the struggle for light, and Holly Black:
But that’s not my problem right now because I am BLISSFULLY LOST IN THE JOY OF READING THIS ARTICLE… There is a page featuring badass elementary-aged cowgirls in events such as goat tying and mutton busting, which leads me to pull out my laptop and Google search the phrase “What is mutton busting?” only to spend the next ten minutes watching videos of six-year-olds in hockey masks clinging to sheep that are having a nervous breakdown.
You know how you sometimes get in to the middle of a situation and then you wonder “how the hell did I get here?”, and then you spend the rest of the night trying not to let any part of your body touch any part of the furniture, floor, walls, or yard of the place you’ve found yourself? You know how that is, right? Of course you do. It’s part of the human condition. It’s one ‘a them… whattayacallems… shared experiences that become part of the collective unconscious, shaping the entire future of mankind.
I had a lover who played bass.
It just goes to show that, with technology and the sharing of innovative ideas there is so much we can all do to ensure derby is the inclusive sport we know it to be.
There’s a hopelessness in the way he talks about it. It’s not a hopelessness like I often feel here in the US as a black person. It’s not the hopelessness I felt after Michael Brown or Eric Gardner. This is a lack of power so complete that even to question it is cruelty.
Aimee, I said, He’s writing it down.
He wrote it down.
We said, This happened to us, and he listened. He WROTE IT DOWN.
Of all the gifts a poet can be given, epilepsy is the richest. I fell when I was four. It was kept hidden by my family; my father had it scrubbed from my medical records.
For a photographer, the struggle for light is literal and unironic. We are Einstein’s proverbial light monkeys, simultaneously chasing exposure and inspiration — the light that is seen and the light that is unseen, both vital, both consuming.
And because you are a fan of finding good, new writing on the internet: