Symptom: signs of, fantasies of aging. Although (as some have recently reminded) meaning always falls elsewhere, outside of its vehicles, your body continues to signify, at times without warning, that its meaning is right on the surface.
Cure: exfoliation. Remember to subvert binaries. Examine the true economy of your recent gift giving: read Derrida, Given Time. (And as they say, stop smoking.)
8 comments:
ay, the body, it seems to play its own little tricks in order to subvert expectations and traditional chronology. when I was a young teenager I was upset over a never-arriving puberty - when I was 13 I looked liked 10. At that time, people (lying adults) tried to comfort me by saying "Well, you know, when you're 40 you're going to be so happy that you look much younger than you are." I'm 40 now, and I look... 40. I guess their temporality, the estimated speed of the decay didn't calculate all those nights in bars legio, and the heartbreaks (not as legio), the insomnia in the army, the years in new york city... I still haven't hit puberty, by the way.
Dear anonymous:
I'm so sorry to hear about your condition. New York may be slightly over-rated, but, in my humble opinion, it may have indeed retarded your development.
At the time, I was not happy to hit puberty earlier than all the others. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, but going through it as you surely will soon (don't worry, you may be exhibiting the signs of its impending arrival) must be outright torture.
What have the Paris years done to me, I wonder?
drw
well, I meant that the years in new york increased the spped on the general decay of my physique, what it did to my development, or lack off, as an individual, I have have no idea. We don't know ourselves.
new york is over rated in the same way hitchcock is over rated, I think. people talk about him all the time and so much crap and insipid comments are made about his films that I think I'm over him ever so often. but when the light go down, the movie starts - he's still such a delight. as is new york for me. it superceeds all hype and buzz by ignoring it. pure romance and horror beautifully co-mingled. and weird smells too.
I'm looking forward to puberty now, the only embaressing thing is when the voice breaks while I'm lecturing. I'm also starting to notice girls in a new way.
if one can avoid the trappings of francophilia paris can only do a person good, probably. assuming one doesn't pick up the local habits of rudeness, french standards of hygien, and driving.
I see. I understood that New York had actually also contributed to the fact that you had not yet hit puberty.
France does someone good, providing that you do not remain in traditional clichés about it. As Iv'e lived it, French "rudeness" is indeed a form of self-protection. The French I believe are a very skeptical bunch and do not wish to be fucked with. The inner circle has been drawn tightly thus which, to many other cultures, comes across as rudeness. Saddly, it does come across to someone on the outside (at least in Paris) as provincialism (or rude). This from someone who wanted to be let into that circle.
Hygiene? And driving, well, I think they drive fine. They really watch out for cyclists.
drw
Dear anonymous, dear doctor wild,
On hygiene, without getting into generalities and national differences, I would say a couple of things. From my limited but real experience as a hotel housekeeper a few summers ago at the Iowa House (in a small college town everyone will recognize instantly), and from stays at various sleeping establishments across the United States, I have often felt that hygiene was a set of signs more than a physical reality. The question was more, "does this room mean cleanliness?" than "is this room clean?" Also, let us always be aware of the boundary between hygiene as self-respect and respect of others, and hygiene as hatred of one's own body and hatred of the humanimal body in general. And let us listen to artist Philippe Katerine, who has been a genuinely curious and amused observer and commentator of human secretions, gas production, and various phenomena by which toxins are expelled from us. Or let us watch Joao Cesar Monteiro's films, in which pubic hair give access to a kind of metaphysical sublime.
Fanch
Dear Fanch,
Spoken like a true, professional doctor. I will not reveal your nattionality. I will not be staying in the Iowa House later today, but i wil be boarding "the dog" bound for that city. Once on the bus, and during my 5.5 hours of travel across the great midwest, I will ruminate on your reflection upon hygene, the animal, the humanimal, respect and will report back as best as I can. Please aslo consult blog entry called "Lay your head." The third photo down is where I stayed in Pisa, the night before my grand entry back to the states. There, I would like your advice. Did that room mean cleanliness?
Besos, and wish me luck going back to the past.
drw.
P.S. to fanch:
I too cleaned hotels. The Boulder Inn. 5 weeks. Summer, 1994.
drw.
I confirm: that room in Pisa did indeed mean cleanliness, but meant it hesitatingly, in a touching sort of way. I just stayed in a hotel myself, all the opposite: a real, hard, abrasive cleanliness, no fake cleaning products just adding on a shine on the bedside table. A real place falling to ruins. Fanch
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