poor v. that's sort of the gist of what i have to say on that subject--that to a certain extent, despite personal ineptitude and undeservingness (nice word, there, c), i've taken part in orphic riddling, that to orpheus, eurydice was no more than a means to his end, to a certain extent. if i were better with words and concepts, if my understanding were stronger and smarter than it is or ever will be, i could maybe hope to express what is almost assuredly my guilt in the matter of v...that it's not fair, not right, to subject a living, vital being with its own problems, its own thoughts and feelings, its own meat, a being i only fleetingly touched and that not for long, a being i was never honest with, one that barely knows me, and one that ought not to have been drawn so deep into myself, one to whom i am completely insignificant, a brief codicil at the end of a rather uninspiring chapter (possibly--i'm not sure what a codicil is), to the incomparably inane burden of being the augustinian signifier around--against--which my "poetry"...uh, revolves? mechanizes, maybe?
v, i manipulate a you that i have no right to claim even exists. and it's creepy. and i feel bad about it. but i keep doing it. so maybe i shouldn't even acknowledge my guilt in the first place, right? if my life were hamlet, i'd be claudius. guilty-ass claudius. i'm not sure what to do about it. so, heh, maybe i'm hamlet. and it's possible i see myself as protesting too much. so i might be gertrude. or i might just be crazy, and ophelia, or a dumbass, hence polonius, or, hell, all of these options sound accurate to some degree or another, so i guess if my life as v's manipulatress is hamlet, it's basically a one-woman show. the point is that for the pitifully small amount that it's worth, i acknowledge my guilt as regards you.
what a crappy point.
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I saw a wonderful film at the MOMA years back--- Marcel Camus’ Black Orpheus (retells the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice against the wonderful madness of Carnival in Rio de Janeiro.)
Camus made the bossa nova beat the new rage in the states with this film.
1960 Academy Award Winner
also won the
Palme d’Or @ Cannes
When I saw this film, I was transfixed, unfortunately I was sitting near some preppy guy who thought it was funny and loudly laughed like an idiot-- I finally told him to shut up or leave. he decided to leave anoouncing loudly that the film "sucked" as he gathered his coat and umbrella. Ya gotta wonder about some people!
HA!! awesome!!! all i know about the bossa nova is that elvis song, and the fact that you can get the beat playing on your yamaha synthesizer if you push the correct button.
yeah, do you know about the whole cocteau "orphee"-slash-spicer thingee? that cocteau made orphee, and the whole poetry-out-of-the-radio was a big part of his aesthetic (i learned this in class, and the details are a little fuzzy). anyway, he wrote a book on it with, like, a line signifying the mirror. it was pretty awesome. i wish i could remember the details.
spicer's aesthetic, not cocteau's. hello proofreading.
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