Wednesday, March 23, 2011

New Issue of Action Yes

Has texts by two of FF's favorites and other really good stuff (like how I just branded myself there, sorry I just read an interview with Tyra Banks, it makes one go temporarily third-person): A crazy-awesome poem/play/text by Gina Abelkop, and Jackie Wang's long-weirdo-brilliant-essay "Serbian Ballerinas Dance with Machine Guns" (and I just received in the post Jackie's chapbook C. Exigua from Gina's press, Birds of Lace, it's soon on my list of reading!)


And for those who care about these things (as I do) I have no idea why Blogger has started to fuck with me and sometimes sporadically make my titles and dates Times New Roman. If I worry about it too much today I'm going to throw my computer. I'm trying to take deep breaths and ignore it. I think it has something to do with HTML coding once I copy and paste Word. Blah. Why Times New Roman do you suck so hard?

Okay, NOW I have to get to work. And tonight - Carolee Schneemann!!! If I can get up the nerve to leave the apartment and get into a car and drive there and figure out parking, all huge maybes. (Kate: should I ask her about Gaga's meat dress and Meat Joy? I can be a roving reporter for Gaga Stigmata).

Homage to Elizabeth Taylor that Functions as My Mood for the Day

(RIP Ms. Taylor: I LOVED you in BUtterfield 8, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, more and more. Oh, you in that white slip in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. You in that slip again in BUtterfield 8. I think I've written about Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in my two novels - Maggie in OFA is referred to as Maggie-the-Cat, and the below scene from Green Girl)


(from massive breakdown scene in Green Girl, after threesome scene with her roommate Agnes and a boy who works in Men's Neckties, Ruth is in bed for days, in a daze, here she is watching Cat on A Hot Tin Roof, it is Christmas, she sits and watches film and the war and eats ice cream with her hands down her pants, then all is okay when she pulls a Mia Farrow and gets her hair cut off):

She wakes up to find a worried Agnes standing over her. Go away, she mumbles. This is how I choose to spend my holiday. Why couldn’t anybody let her have a simple breakdown?

You need to get up.
I’m in a funk, Ruth explains. Ruth licks her lips. They were dry.
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Well, you need to snap yourself out of it.

Agnes still stands over her. Is this about the other night? Agnes refuses to budge. She feels guilty, Ruth realizes with surprise. It was not an emotion Ruth thought Agnes experienced. Ruth looks around Agnes, towards the flickering miniature people on the screen. Liz Taylor as Maggie-the-Cat begging Paul Newman to love her. I’m not living with you: We occupy the same cage, that’s all. She imagines saying that to Agnes: We occupy the same cage, that’s all.

Ruth sighs heavily. She feels deep inside that she hates Agnes. And that maybe Agnes harbors a greater hatred for her, a hate and a love both so intense it confuses her. It’s just the holidays. I’ll get over it.

The next time she looks up Agnes is gone.