I would be like him. I would collect things sexual, old video tapes, super 8 film, daguerreotype prints, etchings, paintings, all kinds of genitalia. This is who I am and it would be better if I collected something less obvious, fragments of shattered glass, prosthetic limbs. I wish I wasn't so one-eyed about it all. I wish that new book I am writing didn't circle back to sex.
I am reading the new Jeffrey Eugenides and I wish I could disguise my work as he has done. He pretends his book is about the search for spirituality, the thirst for knowledge, but at the heart of it is a throbbing lean towards orgasm. At least that is my reading of it, something so carnal and simple that it is a thing of beauty. He wants her wants someone else. They all just want to partner up and fuck.
That is the subject of my new book too but I can't help myself, I strip away the pretense of higher thinking, I abandon reason for the thing itself. If I could collect something other than sex it would be glass eyes or wax organs. I can't help myself from cutting us down to our component parts. We are flesh. Whatever we say or learn or think, we are nothing but animated slabs of meat layed out around our fleshy genitals.
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