Masha Tupitsyn

It’s so thoroughly modern to see people you don’t actually see anymore. So brutally modern that people are everywhere and nowhere in you life, which is a series of online accounts now. It’s hard on the heart, or it’s hard on mine. We’ve gotten so good at not really showing up for anyone anymore. At stalling. At missing our chances. At not actually being anywhere with anyone at any time. In the movies, more than anything, people want to be known. But in real life, people are willing to remain inscrutable.
—  Masha Tupitsyn

This was the awful part of being alone. Not being alone itself, but aloneness in relation to other people who think there’s something wrong with being alone. Most people don’t like people who spend all their time alone. She didn’t mind being alone except when people screened her solitude like a movie. Spying on her like an unconventional plot, both entertained and confused. Female aloneness by choice was so rare, it was almost a separate genre, a fantasy, science fiction. There was always some suspension of belief and some degree of sexual apocalypse involved. If she could get laid, why wasn’t she? If she could fuck, why wasn’t she fucking? Gloria walked around like a monk in modern apparel with everything bouncing off her. Being alone was the opposite of being an actress. No one has anything you do on record. No one wants to imitate you. She was like a tree that falls in the forest. If she was beautiful, but no one said so, or had her, did her beauty really exist? Was she important, but buried like treasure? Gloria lived her days undocumented, unphotographed, documenting, photographing. She liked being alone, alone. Alone while everyone wondered why she was alone was where it all crumbled.

“Are you alone?” everyone asked her when she traveled. “Why?”

Because being with people leads to that, Gloria always wanted to say, or sometimes said.

—  Beauty Talk and Monsters by Masha Tupitsyn
Success is the ethical quagmire par excellence of commodity culture because it jeopardizes our relation to dissent, to resistance, to saying no, as fame is precisely about what one is willing to do, how far one is willing to go, and how much (low in the form of high. Going low in order to get high) one is willing to say yes to. The road to fame is made up of assent. This is what gets you to the literal and figurative top. And this is why fame is almost always a parable about losing (not finding one’s way). About being led astray. “Making it” is not the struggle to become, as it’s always been said, but the willingness to be made.
—  Masha Tupitsyn
i always make sure to make short work–an image, a film clip, or just a few laconic sentences–so that people cannot only read the bare minimum as the bare maximum, but also so that they can read between the lines, between the posts. my lines, my posts. around the lines that are there and the lines that are not there. to learn how to read not only what is written down, but what is not written down. that is, to read what is written–what a writer wants to say–by reading the space between what is written and not written. a minimalist at heart, i thrive on gaps, elisions, reverberation, noir, economy, quiet, concentration, discursiveness. things whittled down. the dialectic between saying and not saying. i write for one, not all. an intimate, not a crowd.

masha tupitsyn, love dog

teaching this tomorrow. 

Gabrielle Bell | Truth Is Fragmentary: Travelogues & Diaries

“you can include everything that’s things” — alice notley

“I am waiting for my Experience.” — mary maclane

“Eleanor, in short, would have gone anywhere.” — shirley jackson

“I would go anywhere tonight” — kendall jenner

“love is also becoming a problem of movement.” — masha tupitsyn

“I must make more maps.” — sylvia plath

Masha Tupitsyn, Love Dog, 2013

my mom says it this way too.
like she needs a word that means more.
just as loving honestly; just as loving absolutely


“Red is feeling deeply—deeper—and losing something or someone deeply, too. So red has its violence. Its trauma. Its horror. It explodes and spills. Saturates.” - Masha Tupitsyn Love Dog

When I look over at him in the dark, he’s smiling like he’s so used to it, to topless girls, that I think, ‘I’m out of my league,’ or he’s out of his. What does he have to lose? It’s not his risky prepubescent-boy dick that’s up there on the screen. I know he’s gonna fuck everything that moves later. I can feel it. See it in his smile. He does, but I don’t fuck him back. I don’t fuck him because promiscuity, in the larger cultural sense, really fucking bores me. It’s like any mass-production/consumption. I don’t want to do what every (body) does, do it the way every (body) does it. I want to be abstemious and wean myself off the cynical IV drip. I don’t think that context always saves the meaning, but if anything did, it would be context.

“Diegesis (World of The Fiction),” by Masha Tupitsyn from Beauty Talk & Monsters

Laia was reading this book so then I got it and it’s sooo good. I’ve never read Tupitsyn’s writing before and I feel like an idiot. Also why do I ever read anything that isn’t published via Semiotexte?

last night

I had drinks and dinner with my dear friend, Masha. We talked a lot about love, writing, and recent experiences. We talked for hours in a backyard patio in Brooklyn. We started in the light and ended into the night. There’s something to be said, to be felt about being here now. Living in this world now, and how we treat other people in this world. I’m not talking about our online personas–what we say on facebook walls, twitter, and blogs. I’m talking about people we have touched and who have touched us. I’m talking about love. I’m talking about what it feels like to be with each other now. Right now.