Nails Hammered to the Cross,
Good Morning. Calm down a sec., would you? I text you that i exist in every pome written in the 21st century and you freak out. Like Medusa didn't when she noticed snakes crawling out from her scalp. And remember the laughter that came out of that
scene Cixous obsessed over, out from the stone carving, quill, pens, & computer keys? That was me laughing it back to her face. Because what good is gender these days if its not reduced to some pathetic economic excuse which in the end leads to gesture. How many things begin and end with the economy we don't even understand? What a beautiful thing to be so stupid. Like that scene from Jodorowsky's Holy Mountain when Christ in a brown thong woke up in a warehouse surrounded by hundreds of paper mache Christ-crucifieds. And what did he do? He just screamed until a pack of fat Roman soldiers came in to rescue him out of his fantasy. Although they didn't. After falling asleep in the Horse Theater on blue velvet lined seats somewhere in London i wake up to the final scene of shaved heads wandering through a dessert valley. Liz Guthrie is to my left and I get up to tell her I'm hungry. Its the only Jodorowsky film i'll care to see in my life--he's one of those retro surrealist Catholic porn directors where if you've seen one, you've seen them all. At the Russel Square underground station we search for the castle--the one i've told you about, the same one FAM knows about, the same one we collectively imagine but have never seen. We ask the Brit operator at the underground information box where we could find it. Someone said "We're looking for the castle. We seemed to have lost it", to which the Brit very warmly said "That's alright, I'll search for you." And he whipped out the directions heading whichever which way. See? Even the information operator knows where we left it. The male British voice popping out from the speaker with such graceful blue sincerity helped us find it!
And look at what the the Steampunks are doing--re-creating a future that never happened with loads of industrial revolution, brass, steam, and dreams. Its possible now to live in a world that doesn't exist. Is this a relief or is it mad? I skip between the two, one foot over the other and wake up on the same air mattress tucked in the brow of Buffalo, NY. At the Steampunk exhibit in the Museum of the History of Science in oxford i found two shining artifacts: a gold tabernacle clock and a gold crucifix clock straight from the 17th century when there wasn't yet a separation between church and state, when science & Christianity were interlocked. Its this interlocking i've recently gotten hooked to. But why? To imagine myself in a world where I could walk down the street and go for a drink with an alchemist who can make words appear in the air with gold dust and we sit back to watch it glitter and fade without having any resources to electricity and therefore, no attachment to the poem that manifests according to whatever chemical properties and states that gold is conjured by. I want to live in a world where electricity is powered by pure love, friendship, and trust, where no one dares to turn on their computers unless at least one of these states are alive and flowing. I am imagining what it would be like if Power went down the road of friendship instead of war, according to what Professor Siegfried Zielinski says.
Heart,
Clipp/ing/ed/ly
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