Viewing page 12 of 58

July 13, '40
There is so much weakness in this city. The whiskey drinkers, the queers, the lesbians, the aesthetes, the artists, musicians and poets drifting in the river of decadence; the buildings with no sunlight, the apartment houses of the poor, the mansions on Russian Hill; the concessions at the Gayway of the Fair, the students at the art school, the instructors, all, all afflicted with the weakness that is our society.

Yesterday I met two young poets. They were as weak as the others. But their poetry is of the new activist movement - the symbols of the subconscious activated by the momentary thought. And last night I saw some prints by Hater & his associates in Paris. They were strange, and beautiful, and spoke of something new. Later last night I went to The Streets of Paris, a night club, and heard exciting jive music. The dancers were fired with a new dance lust.

And so today I [[crossed out]] am [[crossed out]] wonder: is the beauty of weakness beauty still? Is the accomplishment of weakness to be applauded and supported and accepted as good?
Please note that the language and terminology used in this collection reflects the context and culture of the time of its creation, and may include culturally sensitive information. As an historical document, its contents may be at odds with contemporary views and terminology. The information within this collection does not reflect the views of the Smithsonian Institution, but is available in its original form to facilitate research. For questions or comments regarding sensitive content, access, and use related to this collection, please contact