Intolerance to: wheat, people with stinky feet, and any music with a beat.
Reading Stein is a bit bizarre not just content or language-wise. Yesterday as I was barely able to pay attention to her on the train, oddness manifested itself: swaddling mothers about to throw themselves into a fist fight with a veritable girl-child possessed by too much mischievousness.
Went to see Pan's labyrinth yesterday (El laberinto del faun) and found it beautifully magical. It was one of the few movies where I could not anticipate anything that what would happen next. The cinematography imbued everything with a strange eye that make everything look new, and of course it was, but it all seemed very unfamiliar--shapes, lines, colors, composition.
What does it mean when everything feels familiar when I'm being exposed to subversive images and texts that are meant to defamiliarize?
A Fire
What was the use of a whole time to send and not send if there was to be the kind of thing that made that come in. A letter was nicely sent.
-Gertrude Stein
The isolation she must have felt (aside from her Alice B. Toklas) in having no readers but utterly aware of the importance and magnitude of what she was doing. Beyond, Joyce, Woolf, and James. Why must the greatest female writers always, in the end, be alone (Woolf, Dickinson, Edgeworth, Austen, Plath)? Perhaps that's not the case anymore these days.
I guess she had her Alice B.
Anyway, I just realized something--jot it down.
If Herodotus = Almasy and Maddox = Anna Karenina, then I wonder which book has possession of me.
Listening to: Glenn Gould's Well-Tempered Clavier, Constantines, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, Death Cab for Cutie
2 comments:
Its hard to be by the side of brilliance I guess.
It's just that we imagine a woman's life must be validated by her attachment to a man--- but if we think about it, plenty of brilliant men ended up alone as well.
You think homer had a wife? I THINK NOT!
i had no idea you were writing again.
i liked the sex poems.
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