a eurobrat in exile
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Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in the "dadagirl" journal:
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09:16 am
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I knew Dubya had a genius behind him!
Short movie on scriptwriting for W
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12:52 am
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pavannes and divagations...
Wanted to expand some of the quotes I posted on nerve_in_exile, they got me thinking, kind of noticing and following what connects them.
"Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know."
-one of my all time favorites: Albert Camus' The Stranger.
"He was a man who could never quite learn the lines he had scripted for himself. Even at his most enthusiastic for a role, some part of him could not forget that it was a role, He did not know how to merge himself into one. A little less consciousness, or a little more, might have saved him. As it was he suffered."
"My self-esteem is a jigsaw I cannot complete. I get one part of the picture and the rest lies in pieces. I suspect that there is no picture, only fragments. Other people seem to glue it together somehow and not to worry that they have been using pieces from several different boxes. So what is the answer? Is identity a deceit, a make-shift, and should we hurry to make any pattern we can? Or is there a coherence, perhaps a beauty, if it were possible to find it? I would like to convince myself about myself but I cannot. The best there is are days when the jigsaw assumes its own meaning and I no longer care what picture is emerging. By that I mean I am unfrightened by the unexpected. If there is beauty it will surprise me. Of all things it cannot be calculated. I said I suspect that there is no picture. I should have said that whatever the picture is, it will not be the one on the box."
(both from Jeanette Winterson's "GUT Symmetries")
For me they resonate with a feeling of alienation/estrangement, of being able to see the cogs turning without being able to get quite behind them, or into the action. It is a familiar and recurring theme for me. And no, I am not depressed -a least not right now, am actually quite well. Thank you. (crooked grin)
Maybe it's also just a postmodern condition...
-melancholia or refused identification (see J. Butler) and the ennui of narcissism?
"It is fatal to woo yourself, however graceful the posture."
(from Theodore Roethke's "What can I tell my Bones" -it ties right in. says it better than I could.)
And I threw in the following quote from Harold Brodkey's "Innocence" for good measure. Probably because it so describes my friend Clair, a woman I worship the ground she walks on: poetic, vulnerable, precariously negotiating the thin grade before the abyss, yet being so absolutely gorgeous, juicy, charmed, outrageous while doing it that any man -and many women, myself included- would gladly throw themselves down in her stead. -and a few have. because what is the meaning of life, if such beauty were not allowed to exist. (When she puts her light house beam eyes on you, for that moment you feel like the center of the world I am not kidding you. I guess she deserves her own entry sometime.)
"To see her in sunlight was to see Marxism die. I’m not the only one who said that. It was because seeing someone in actuality who had such a high immediate worth meant you had to decide whether such personal distinction had a right to exist or if she belonged to the state and ought to be shadowed in, reduced in scale, made lesser, laughed at.
Also, it was the case that you had to be rich and famous to set your hands on her; she could not fail to be a trophy…
She made any idea I had of psychological normalcy or of justice absurd since normalcy was not as admirable or as desirable as [X]; or rather she was normalcy and everything else was a falling off, a falling below…
She was like a giant bird, she was as odd as an ostrich walking around the yard, in her absurd gorgeousness…"
Current Mood:  contemplative
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07:51 pm
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b-day...
so, today is my actual birthday -fall equinox. such a non-happening day!
okay, i cannot complain: i had a fabulous time at harbin hot springs and will have a happening salsa party out on the patio of el rio in the sf mission this sunday afternoon. care to join me? :)
-and seriously, i cannot take off all the time: i've got to do some work sometimes.
i got some phone calls, even invites to drinks, cake, candles etc. -and i do not even feel like it today!
still strange...
i have been going non-stop and on sleep deprivation for weeks and kind of went on sensory overload these last couple days. i just want some time with myself for a change. i'll give you the details on my adventures later, if you care (maybe i'll have to make it friends only). ;^)
maybe it's all just my futile attempt of dealing with getting yet another year older a la "if you don't mind, it don't matter!"
no, actually, this is why i am having a big party.
or as glenda jackson said: "i am looking forward to growing old, wise and audacious." -i.e. fucking raving mad with a licence!
Current Mood: frazzled
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11:38 pm
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full moon in the cemetery
okay, i committed a cowardly no-no of blogging yesterday. i deleted a whole string of entries on nerve in exile, - i just couldn't face the embarrassment of having cried "wolf" for naught. i know andrew conru is up to something nasty, but expiring standard members is apparently not it. stagebuilder was just whining about his gold (!) membership expiring. poor guy, i think he's confused and i did not have much patience to explain it to him...
last night after some writing at cafe gaylord's on piedmont ave (i just love to work there, -it's quite a scene and in the middle of all the din, i don't feel like i'm missing out on anything or that life's passing me by), i convinced a friend to jump the wall of the piedmont cemetery with me and we took a long walk in there. it's a huge park in the hills with old trees and monuments from the turn of the century. (it was designed by olmsted who also designed central park in nyc.)
i wish i had figured out how to post fotos!
the full moon contrasted everything in black, blue or pale silver, quite magical. apart from some deer arrested to be mistaken for statues and then scampering away at the last moment and stray cats -or was it possums?- crossing our path, we were all alone making our way to the top. we slumped down in the grass on a slope overlooking the whole bay, while bats were fluttering quite close around our heads.
we talked long and good (expand as you like it*), hushed and slid deeper into the moon shadow, when a security car came winding up the road on its patrol round. when we got cold around midnight, we made our way down to the grimy noisy dive on the corner outside to warm up some. different world.
ay, i love that place (the cemetery)! it's my secret getaway right in the city. not many people know about it or if they do, they have qualms about entering it... so, it's just for the few of us who greet each other with a knowing smile in there.
* don't get me wrong, i'm not that prudish. even though it was the perfect set-up, nothing of the sort happened. so i thought i give you some opportunity to elaborate your own fantasy. ;^)
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11:18 pm
[Link] | a bit new to this whole blogging thing. still trying to figure it all out.
my initiation to it were my comments and blog as 0xymoron on the "new nerve," and warnings all over the cybersphere of the new regime. (that cross-listed craigslist ad was mine btw -kind of flattered me that people were actually referring and took seriously what i had to say.) but graduate school kind of spoils the innocent fun of just blabbering away. i think i always have to make a point. how tedious!
and i guess i usually need a good reason to come out of hiding. i am private and a bit shy by nature, even though most people who know me personally would never think that. maybe i am just an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms, because at the same time i appear a lot more open about myself to most than most, and somewhere in there is also the show-off -after all i used to be an actress! or is it just that successful social persona that i have constructed around that then chubby, ostracized, overly sensitive girl?
do you remember school? the rejection, the suffering? and only decades later you find out, how many people at the same time thought you were really cool and were too shy to let you know...?
anyway, finding my way in this new world brings on strange flashbacks to that period. and judging from profiles i've seen i'm not the only one that happens to.
oh, did i say that i feel a bit schizo? i deleted 0xymoron in protest, but dadagirl is still up there -yet all the points (enough for almost 2 mos. gold) that got dumped into my account are with 0xymoron. i'm really divided about letting it all go to waste. you know pride (proud to be standard etc.)... or to just be a schizoid hypocrite and have my cake and eat it, too.
okay, i should put this puppy to sleep.
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