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Dear Kitty: Maryann's Poignant Memoir Call me the anti-Cosmo. I sacrifice my sexual power for the sake of fidelity. I rejoice in lack of foreplay and sexual dysfunction. I spit in the face of society, walking down the street, reminiscing about the inadequacies of myself and my nearest and dearest .... I love society, for presenting its face to me to spit at, and for laughing with me. But this joke is on me Monday August 26 I was involved in an actual physical struggle on the street today! I wouldn't have thought much of it but as I was screaming and yelling on Bond Street I happened to look up and see my reflection in a shop window, and boy did I look weird hunched over with a screwed up face being manhandled along the pavement by a ... certain pal. And I could see a couple of secretaries standing up behind their desks, concerned, and I thought ... wow here I am having an actual physical struggle on the street. Well, they didn't call the cops. I would have. And later ... I'm sitting in Arc with Gilbert and we have the idea of applying to the Community Trust as an 'unincorporated body' ( - that's the torturous mangling of Latin and German that would apply to us - ) in the usual sycophantic, hyperbolic, patriotic terms for an 'art' project, and the art project would be an application to the Community Trust without any hyperbole. Thursday August 23 This is a conversation I overheard in Arc: a young girl, probably aged about 18, with black hair, was sitting with her friend, a boy, who looked much older than her, with red hair. It looked like the typical kind of scenario where he would have had a crush on her, but she only considered him a friend; anyway, he hung on every word and at the same time seemed eager to prove her wrong, as if to diminish her because of the pain he felt at her rejection. But that’s just a guess. Anyway, she told him that things were going well with her boyfriend: ‘We spend most nights together now, and it’s really nice, but it’s horrible too, and I can’t tell him this: that we’re allowed to do whatever we want, and we do, there’s nothing forbidden to us, we do all this sexual stuff, which should be so exciting, but it’s just a repetition of what I’ve felt so many times before.’ The boy with red hair told her that she obviously wasn’t in love with her boyfriend; that if she was, she wouldn’t feel it was the same as all the others. But she objected … "No! Supposing I was with someone I liked more, it would only be worse. We would try even harder to like each other, we would encourage more and more experimentation, pleasure, whatever, and there would be no place to stop, just like there’s no place to stop now, it would be futile, an endless task … Let me explain it to you this way. I’m standing at the bottom of a mountain of sugar, with only a small mouth to contain it all … I wish I could relinquish my freedom, that I only got a teaspoon of sugar each day; and even that I had to beg for it, and that I had a benefactor who was fickle and would decide on a whim whether I received any or not …" Then the boy was really annoyed, and said that she was an idiot who couldn’t see that some people didn’t get any of the sugar at all, that she was ungrateful. He said that it was just human nature; ‘You want things to be hard to get, because you only want what you can’t have’ – he said this personally, as if it was directed at her alone, although he was referring to human nature. He seemed like he was going to leave. But she was upset and said ‘No, no, it’s my fault, I used that metaphor incorrectly. There isn’t a mountain of sugar, there’s a universe of sugar without limits, because everything is allowed, and sweetness loses its meaning altogether … and it’s not only those who are suffocated by it that see it as meaningless, but even people who want to eat it, know now deep down that when they begin, it won’t mean anything at all … and consider the position of my boyfriend; this is the only thing he has to give me … I don’t know whether it’s always been the same, but I think now that sex can never be an act of love, and if anything people have to love each other much more just so that sex can’t destroy it … " Wednesday August 22 I am drunk. So come on world here I am, drunk. When I'm drunk little kids appeal to me more than ever, like Jade the monkey girl in the supermarket who climbed up the side of her mother's trolley and tried to tip it over then when she was restrained WITH A BUCKLE UP STRAP opened her mothers purse and started rifling through it and putting bank statements in weird places like underneath the groceries, oh yes I watched a little too closely, and then there was the girl yesterday who was so annoyed with me for staring at her that she started advancing towards me doing kung fu kicks, somewhat unexpected but then this girl is trapped every morning with her mother selling clothes in the foyer of the main library at university, a drafty corridor and her mother doesn't even give her lego, which proves what I have always claimed, that a CHILDHOOD WITHOUT LEGO RESULTS IN VIOLENCE Note the similarity gentle reader between my style here and Duane's, what could cause this? I wonder, a prize for the lucky guessor. Ha ha ha Duane wrote in his diary about checking out attractive girls and I don't even have to care about it cos I'm not his girlfriend. Dave Q avers that "men get upset by female infidelity but that's different, because it involves a loss of social status. When men cheat though, it's just one of those things that happen, so why do women freak out so badly over it?" I respond "Women freak out because they can. That's why they're more interesting to watch.'" That answer being just a private joke in terms of responding in the style. But really I want something even more rigorous. Also - is it even possible for a girl to be reactionary? Yes, I suppose that would involve wanting to get married, reading romance novels and sacrificing yourself for your family and stuff like that. I suppose that Lisa Carver is a kind of female reactionary, more and more so. Monday August 20 I had to talk to Graeme Downes today. He was enthusiastically explained to me the reasoning behind this certain interval and then started talking about Beethoven and playing the piano to show me what he meant - a monologue that became more and more highly pitched and lasted for ten minutes - but I don't write this to ridicule, but to praise. I luvxor enthusiasm - and especially the genuine enthusiasm of a teacher - I mean, his enthusiasm had nothing to do with me personally, I've seen him extend it to other people equally - and it depresses me that everyone ridicules him just because he's a nerd. He reminds me of a science teacher ... music isn't what you all think. And as for myself, sorry to disappoint you so gentle reader but I can't say anything about myself, I'm depressed 'the formulation seemed a good one to me - it wasn't that I felt low, but that the world seemed too high ...'. Sunday August 19 All about Dave Q ... go and check out this guy on I Love Music or I Love Everything. There's a secret love felt by everyone for this earnest correspondent, for the eagerness of his tone and the cuteness of his disenchantment. He isn't funny, just sincere; and who doesn't hate wit? (Only he IS funny, and that's all his charm is - and I only wrote that so I could conclude that everybody hates wit - wittily!) He is a reactionary, he talks about fucking women without caring and carrying guns, but he is so interested and enthusiastic and baiting that dear reader you hang in the balance, because you too want his desperate attentiveness ... don't deny it! He reminds me of my friend Michal who would scream idiotic insults at me and I was supposed to not want to be friends with him according to polite society, but the quality of everyone else's attention just couldn't compare ...
Keine Schilder von Himmel kommen heute hinzuzufügen, Ich habe meine Gedanken über meine eigene Erfahrung der Liebe offenbart. Saturday August 18 dear maryann , i am sorry you and pat broke up, but i guess you can all go out on double dates together to cheer each other up. Rock i suppose is not very interesting at the moment but I know alot of people inc me who are working on it
pop music _& rock that is good today
Britney spears -she is good & and just as artisticlly valid as th deadc just imagine mike morley danicing on stage like that ! people would love it .just because shes the real deal doesnt mean shes not genuine
Friday August 17 The Marriage of Maria Braun begins with scenes of explosions - World War Two - and ends with her dying in a house explosion and in between there is a rags to riches melodrama, perhaps just to help you to watch through the political message. This sort of thing always makes me ashamed that I aren't using every means available to infect it with the political - but it inspires radicalism, of the kind Wittgenstein demonstrated when he gave away his inheritance. Thursday 17 August We walked up the hill to the top of the Botanical Gardens. Duane is in a good mood these days, for reasons I can't specify. Anyhow I don't understand. All I could think about were treats. Today I ate a new 'echinacea bar' called 'Naked' that is wheat, dairy and [?] free; it tasted like the cloying old things I used to buy at Auckland University. A disappointing treat. Last night we watched 'The Marriage of Maria Braun' in Viewing Room 205. We had bought cider. Pat Kraus was more nervous than me and when we initially began watching in viewing room 204, in clear view of the staff, he refused to drink it. So we were going to leave, but the horrible librarian said 'You can use Room 205', helpfully. I spilt cider on the floor and rubbed it into the carpet with my shoe. After about 12 minutes I was drunk and wanted to drink more, so I bought wine afterwards. Wednesday 15 August Gilbert, Pat K and I watched 'Fear Eats the Soul' by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. We got to sit in one of the private viewing rooms at the back of the library. I cried and got a headache from pretending not to cry. But it wasn't as bad as when I watched Ivan's Childhood with Gilbert and thought I was going to faint or -come?- I'm sorry to be so blunt but I want to be accurate - from trying not to cry. We were sitting evenly spaced in the viewing room, which was about as big as a small bare bedroom. On chairs with hard backs. It's a sort of austere and worshipful way to watch a movie, a kind of sensory deprivation environment, and very respectful. That was the first Fassbinder movie I've seen and he is now my favourite director basically, although I watched a Herzog movie yesterday ('Heart of Glass') which included a tall aesthete saying slowly 'A galaxy of chaos hurts my head' while raising the back of his hand limply to his forehead as if it was frightening to move faster than a snail ... last night I barely slept. I was listening for the sound of the front door without realising it ... I dreamt about Spike Milligan ... Friday 10 August. At around 9 Duane and I helped Lil Mr K. to move his drums etc to the Bond St flat. The basement was open but quiet when we got there; it was after dark; Gilbert and Matt were alone watching a Pearl Jam video through a slide projector. Gilbert said maybe they would play some porn movies. To kill time, cause we weren’t drinking though they had a keg, we went to Arc and used the internet for about an hour. Soon after we got back at 10 Pat Kraus played He played the kick drum and guitar; he never looks up, he concentrates vaguely. (Do you sometimes wish you were homosexual?) Beth said it sounded like hillbilly music – a judgement that appealed to him - while Duane said it was influenced by Captain Beefheart. My favourite part was when he played along to Ronan Keating on the radio, though he seemed a little shy and flustered and stopped playing after a couple of minutes. I had to go to the downstairs toilet. The walls were covered with porn. Girls with shaved pubic hair and yellow lighting. It made me mad. Folina’s record came out that day and she was drunk and very happy, though she said she was embarrassed about it. Go buy a copy – you can get details of how to do so from Kraus’s webpage. When LD50 played, all the lights were shining on Folina and she was playing the drums really well as usual. But I should add that I got nervous while they played and decided to go for a drive, then feeling guilty about wasting petrol I didn’t drive far and parked outside a bar up the road and read ‘They Shoot Horses Don’t They’ while people gave the appearance of being happy outside. The Aesthetics played well. After the sixth or seventh song I waited with dread for Matt to point to the next one from the song list they had tacked up to a wooden pillar. For the first time this year Matt played complicated guitar parts rather than holding the guitar and clumsily hitting it against pillars. By this time it seemed as if I had endured an immense duration of nighttime and I could see my companion getting tired. We all went outside into the alleyway and leaned against the wall while Di talked to Steve in the light from the windows of the skateboarders house. Everyone was so tired. An index to old kitty entries, my links page, and my ontological struggles. XX ... and the Rock City Rocker index |