Friday, July 9, 2010
If you don't give two flying fucks about the fact that Lebron James is leaving Akron.
Seriously, people, you're making me give up my intense Internet habit. Doesn't anyone care about real things? Gorgeous hybrid literature? Our environmental crisis? The Emmy nominations? Especially pernicious, I think, how we criminalize people for leaving the nest, the family, their roots, etc. etc. So especially poignant for people perhaps this like a rejection of the Midwest, of the middle meddled muddled. PEOPLE - LIVE YOUR LIVES. LET OTHERS LIVE THEIRS. (Who knew I would have opinions on this subject? What sport does he play again?) What would Foucault say. Yes. Foucault. On Lebron James. The real crime, leaving Akron/Cleveland. I live in Akron/Cleveland, and I would get the fuck out of here if someone paid me. Yes siree. To New York or Miami or wherever. Go to another city, young man, I say. Go to another city and dance in a nightclub and eat actual authentic Latin-American food and maybe check out some of the gallery scene (right, I know, but still).
Today I ran out in my nightgown braless and bare feet onto the streets of Akron because John forgot his cell phone. It was a funny, crazy, tableau.
Today I reread Green Girl, for the millionth time, and realized how much I was inspired by The Bell Jar, and that this book (I know it sounds like sacrilege) was my attempt to write a millenial (ha! advertising speak!) Bell Jar. Well, not as good, but whatever. But I realize I wrote it for young girls, and that's why it's not being accepted, because the editors reading it WERE NEVER YOUNG GIRLS. No, I'm just kidding. Because the editors reading it were most likely not THAT kind of young girl, because they're hugely powerful and successful. Considering again Halberstam's notions of shadow feminisms, the idea of shattering the self, that's really what I write to in the book.
So I need to find a press run by young girls. Or someone needs to start a young adult press that specializes in EXPERIMENTAL LITERATURE. Or Bhanu Kapil can marry her Pakistani dentist and start up her imprint.
Does anyone have ideas where to send an existential novel about shopping and makeup?
Now it is raining. I am not writing but I am happy.