Line from Jenna of Lena Dunham's Girls, the naturalistic Brit-bohemian, rejecting the artifice of a pink barnes and noble relationship help book. Today I do have udders, I am a sore, mooing cow, it doesn't feel the least bit sexy, to be so full and vulnerable. I am watching Girls, I am trying to essay for this essay on Girls and girls and girls, but instead I am finding most pleasure holding forth on Facebook with the likes of Kate Durbin and Feng Chen, who just wrote a great piece on the Girl for Montevidayo, in reference to Olivia Cronk's Skin Horse, which I want to read and still haven't.
I cannot seem to think straight or get work done or read. All I can do is cuddle my anarchic, perverse puppy who will have his balls chopped off in two days. I give him his reindeer, his favorite fuck toy. He fucks it in the face, then tears off his arm with his teeth. I am in awe sometimes of the demonic Genet, such energy, such force, and yet he also allows himself to sleep, to rest so relaxed circled around me. His testicles hang, pearly and pendulous. Will he mourn them when they are gone?
Also for the first time in a while I Jeanne Dielmaned, barely - I made a salad for lunch for both of us- corn, black beans, red pepper, cilantro, celery, lemon, avocado, green onions, whole-grain mustard, olive oil, sea salt, black pepper.
All I can do is make lists. I am listing. As a child that was an indicative trait, the almost masturbatory pleasure I received making various lists - it was how I ordered my universe.
Projects to work on now.
1)UNDER THE SHADOW OF MY ROOF (excerpted as I AM SHARON TATE). The notebook of a psychotic Monkey-girl, an ambivalent libertine trapped in the cellar by her father. Suffering from D.I.D., morphing into characters from literature/history. Fritzl-esque. More American Fritzl. Try to uncover: the ghosts of American past, if Josef Fritzl and others like him reminded Austria of their Nazi past. I saw the translator of Babyfucker recently, a wonderful person, and we spoke of: The Vienna Group, esp. Thomas Bernhard, and the Vienna Actionists. He told me that a young opera singer was killed in Vienna (am I confusing this?) and the authorities of course called in the artists, like Nitzsch, as possible culprits. I was so sad in Boulder I didn't get to meditate outside of my chosen environs - the former house of Jon Benet Ramsey. I told him when I was a baby wannabe performance artist at university, all the boys wanted to cut their cocks off. We had no girl equivalent, except maybe carving into ourselves, which we all did, in a way, at least psychically. During our conversation he bet me $100 that if I wrote a letter to Elfriede Jelinek and sent her my books she would write me back. I told him that if Elfriede Jelinek ever wrote me I would promptly have a stroke. Not a metaphorical one. But anyway. This is the work, that is of course inspired by Jelinek, as I would imagine Jelinek would view Fritzl, and of course inspired by Janey Smith trapped by the Algerian slavetrader in Blood and Guts in High School, but one in which I will try to be brave, braver than I am, and go past, personally, Acker and Jelinek. Or: impossible to go past them, as I will never be that brave, and as the citizen-critics on Goodread perennially remind me, I'm not that good of a writer, but I want to personally feel that I have transcended them, something Oedipal-edible. A devouring. To read: ordered up: Ian Hacking on MPD (Rewriting the Soul), Guyotat times two, for the rhythm, Artaud's Les Cencis maybe chased with Shelley's, for source material, more books on prostitutes and feral children, source material, Gramsci's Prison Notebooks, Michael Taussig's field notebook, Joyce's Finnegan's Wake, for polyphonic language play. Umm. Acker. Genet. Cooper's George Miles, for courage.
2)SLAPPING CLARK GABLE. perhaps not good. I don't know. A compulsion. Can one exhume the girl? Completely? I wonder if I will write the girl continually, like hag-Duras in The Lover, and conjure her up, and conjure me up, will I ever feel at rest or at peace. Or perhaps: I will always be a girl, which is to be always in flux, the reclaiming of D&G's becoming-woman that uses all masculine archetypes. This was the subject, partially, of the Facebook discourse earlier today. Anyway: on: feminism and sex. On messy feminisms. On girlhood, which is being messy, and desire, which is always messy. The first piece for n+1 (if I can manage) due Labor Day - memoir+criticism+reportage? - on: Lena Dunham's Girls, and maybe Francesca Woodman, and maybe M.C., and maybe a subject of boundaries. But I think lately watching Girls using a good pal's HBO Go subscription, that I'm interested/obsessed with ideas of authenticity and this experience, and is that the search, authenticity. Versus what - a melodrama? Isn't being a girl melodramatic? Or: the other side of fakery: commodification. Am I making sense here? Also, as Kate Durbin said today on Facebook, horror is the perfect genre to consider the girl. Yes:and perhaps my issue with GIRLS: the TV show: it is sitcom when it also reads so queasy horror. I don't know. The second essay of this for Frequencies, due early fall? on Acker and the archive at Duke, but really: about how Acker subverts and complicates the idea of the Kunstlerroman, which maybe also segues with Lena Dunham's Girls, and MAYBE I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME WRITE ANYTHING DISCREETLY OR DISCRETELY. I don't know. Also: writing of Lispector, maybe. Thinking today of Macabea as a queasy, grotesque, girl in the woods. Mostly film + TV I think. The psychosis of ABC Family, Last Tango in Paris, Deneuve in Repulsion, idk. Tumblr. Gone with the Wind, obviously.
3)Cinematic essay on Barbara Loden making The Awakening. Shot partially in North Carolina, Pennsylvania, New Orleans. Want to be a failed filmmaker.
4)Collaboration with Bhanu Kapil at chimp sanctuary (video, maybe text)
5)Two La Genet collabs: Second pupas series, in North Carolina, La Genet Winter 2013, also curatorial/archiving project, top-secret, TBA.
6)Image-making/photography/video/performance around The Book of Mutter. First up: Series around hair imagery, entitled MYTHICAL SUICIDE - photography, video, performance.
7) Plays? Can I write plays? An update of Genet's The Balcony, set in a whorehouse-like place. THE CAPTIVITY OF CASSANDRA, my play on Lyndie England/the other Cassandra myth, set in a hotel room. Like two writhing Francis Bacon figures.
I think I have a cold or something. Am sick. Probably should not have secreted monster blog post. Bah.