I wake up in the early morning and I feel like a gluey insect. I want to crawl over the walls. I want to taste the ointment. I feel confused. It's female intuition. I'm crawling over the window and taste the screen. I can spread more disease now I believe. I have not only a cunt, but breasts. Oh, I'm groggy and I never wake up at this time. I look like a model. Somewhere in between Helena Christensen and Kate Moss. I got that waif thing down. This is a special day and I have to be alert. Time to make some coffee and eat some cereal. Watch some TV.
I am dangerous looking. I'm about 5-7. I'm gorgeous. Even though I'm wealthy I only wear black clothes. I don't wear much makeup but a lot of red lipstick. I want men to look at my face and imagine me sucking their cocks. I want to be a big tease. I want people to talk about sex all day long and not do it with them. I want men to explode from blue balls. I want to appear that I'm straight, and that I am open to relationships, but deep down, I fear people, am celibate, and I want to fuck with people's heads. Really I suppose some people will think that I despise men. Lesbians will try to bond with me, but I will be just as cold to them, when it comes to that moment, when two people think "Should we take this any further?" Or when a guy think "Let's see your tits!" Or when someone tries to make a pass at me.
I just turn away.
I turn away and shut the door and lock it. I turn out the lights and sit in the dark. I have all the curtains up so no lights shines through and no one can ever see me. I like the sound an apartment when nobody is home. Just no one there, including myself. I have no self-perception at all. Just a sense of absence in the room. Nothing.
When I talk to people my guard is up. When they talk about relationships and getting laid, I just let them go on, and add little myself. I change the subject. I let their reality fill up the moment and I find myself further and further away.
I have many mirrors in my apartment. I look at myself often and appreciate my looks. I stare more than men do. I get lightheaded and everything becomes hazy, and I hallucinate. I disappear. Mirrors are somewhat atrocious. I don't want to have sex with myself, but I just want to feel at home in my own body. Or I want my skin to be connected to all skins, to comprise a body as immense and immortal as God.
I want to feel all space around me. I want to fill all hours with experience. I want this day to seem like it lasted forever. What is a day? When you wake up, till when you go asleep. I want to stay up for days in this body.
My day is very ritualized and robotic. I eat meals as if I have had the same thing all my life. I spend many hours combing my hair. I am very polite to people even if I hate them.
I would encourage men to get jealous over me. They can battle amongst themselves over my non-sexuality. I would be friendly to homeless people and shady characters. In turn, these people would protect me from others who wanted to hurt me. When men threatened me on the street, I would start speaking in Latin to confuse them.
I say: "Voluptas ex Felicitate Alieni...."
"What does that mean?"
"The pink carpet is still dirty and nothing can change that basic fact."
"Okay. I will leave you alone. I just thought that you had a nice ass."
I would pretend that I like certain people but only when they are absent. I would say to A "B is a really great person." To B I would say "A and C are really great!" To C I would say "I think A is the top." All these people would wonder who was my best friend. I would say someone who is not there. That person I picked wouldn't be a friend at all. I would let the confusion circulate. People who want to be my friends because I am so young and beautiful would have to tolerate my indeterminacy.
Actually I would have the belief that "Everyone is everyone." That there is no difference between evil and good people, especially in the eyes of God. I would have this intense feeling on a subway train that I was no different than the person across the way. I would feel an overwhelming feeling of sameness, and that virgin and whore are equal. I would never express this thought to anyone though. It would be the one secret I would retain. I wouldn't want to express any inner feeling at all. I would talk about neutral things and other people not present. I would say positive things about most people whether I believed it or not.
I would never want to masturbate.
I would tell people that I'm an artist.
I would lie about my family. I would say things like "I never knew my father." Later, when confronted with the truth, I would get defensive and say "Why this interrogation?" I wouldn't call that person again.
I would be quieter than usual. Watch some more TV.
When pressed, I would claim that I had three relationships in my life, and they were in another country, so no one could check it out. When men came over to my apartment, and somehow there was no way to reject them. I would start sweating, I would hold on to my purse as if they were going to rob me, and panic, look uncomfortable, and let them wait in the living room. They would eventually see all my books about celibacy, chastity, religion, feminism. They would see all my Morrissey records. They would get the picture that I was a battleship, impentratable. If they tried to kiss me when they left, I would turn my face. "I don't liked to be kissed on the face, sorry."
Another would-be suitor says: "In a riddle whose answer is sex, what is the only forbidden word?"
"The word 'sex,' right?" I reply, and add: "If a man came up to you today and said 'In two years time God will take on human form and be born of a virgin,' what would you think?
"I would think that the guy was mad," he answered.
I would watch much television, stay indoors, and smoke cigarettes. I would want to become very pale, and get that mental patient look. Television and cigarettes are good because they just make the mind a blank after a while. I would desire the world and experience to be like white noise. Soon, I would deduce that the world is illusion. The afterlife would involve little copulation or interaction. I would be at one with God.
I would have photographic memory. My experience of this day would be so vivid that it would take me literally 24 hours to recall it. My experience of a flower would be so definite, complete, and exemplary. I would describe this day in so many different ways. I would categorized it scientifically. I would fictionalize it more. I would tell the truth. I would make it into a memoir.
To describe myself and my work I would put it like this: "Central impellants to my work are states of being between blurred bondaries and notions of violence, culture(s), self-will, and internalisation of existing constructs, gestating under the seductive aestheticism of glossed insalubrity is the simmering boil of repression which speaks: Valetudinarian!"
I would idealize everything. I would claim that I liked celebrities, rock stars, and strong personalities. It would never occur to me that these people were ever vulnerable, had human bodies, ever cried or showed their weaknesses to others, or had sex. Nudity would be offensive to me. I would like people to not show themselves, neither their thoughts or their minds. I would feel safe if I idealized everything and kept the world at bay. I would not feel cheated out.
All cocks in this world are pointed at me tonight.
What would seem like the longest day is over as I close my eyes and fall asleep. I would not have sex at all today, or ever.
Free Williamsburg | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
[email protected] | October 2000 | Volume 8