Sunday, November 30, 2008
The virgin sturgeon....Surgeon? Do I need Freudian analysis?
Warning to nice ladies: The following copy contains scenes of prurience and immaturity. You may have to pause at the authors abysmal ignorance... You might even even yawn.
The majority of top fiction writers, male (with certainly the exception of top-sex scene writer John Updike) are people with high intelligence and low sexual drive. W. Somerset Maugham comes to mind. Or Gore Vidal.
This might posibly be (if you read Joe Orton at all) because the majority of top male novelists are outrightly queer. They're good becaue they're queer, it seems. Testosterone does not a good novel make.
Well, as a person with low intelligence and high sexual drive, it is small wonder that my novels haven't sold so well.
I might have to "turn" at once.
Captain of the stupid fooball team. No way.
This turn will be hard to execute.
You're a writer now, not an athlete.
And poets have more access to women than most athletes.
Even if you're not all that good as a lothario.
I mean, face it. You can be excused from being Didus Ineptus in bed if you have the mystique of the novelist or poet around you. You are special...Maybe even retarded?
Women are bountiful. They understand. They will show you not only how to use your left hand in poetry, but your right hand at making love. Woman is the poet's sister.
So this you know, as graduate poet and cad.
What am I going to do with this?
There will be a way.
Hm...This might all be TMI.
Well, take a burned-out alcoholic poet, have him meet a Blue Angel, and wow, do you have a story.
The professor, spoiled by women, used to not having to do anything at all--the woman willl initiate--suddenly meets a femme fatale whose sole mission in life, it seems, is to f*ck up an artist.
There are complex reasons for her behaviour, It might be Mother, whose lifelong indifference has caused the femme fatale to commit cruel atavistic acts, like squashing butterflies and hurting people emotionally. Cruel, generically beautiful, she can do this, again and again. Dickens shows her to us in Great Expectations.
Or she may have had a father whose affection for her was less than honourable.
Better to explain through a Bob Dylan line:
"Don't put on any more airs when you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue.
They got some hungry women there
And they'll really make a mess out of you."
The poets call her goddess of the gloom
She speaks good English and will invite you to her room
And you're kinda careful not to go to her too soon
'Cause she'll take your voice
And leave you howlin' at the moon."
Well, along comes a burned-out poet, spoiled by women
who meets a femme fatale, the bug-squasher who very soon squashes the poet.
He is used to easy conquests, is cocksure, but he fails miserably.
Hey. This was not in the script. Why, of all times did the shift-lever mechanism not work this time?
Now you've got a problem She's got a problem: You. You have a problem. Her.
The psychologist Jung would say let it go;you should both ignore the awkwarkdness of the impasse.
The moment will come around again.
But the poet, a maniac in the first place, will become obsessed with this lapse. It will be all he thinks about. It will take him over. He will try again. And again fail.
His sexual performance, or lack of it will lead him to a kind of compulsion neurosis. He must now have this woman, only this woman, or he will die. Magnificent obsession.
Well, both will suffer damnably and neither can win.
"Stick to easy conquests, say Herodotus.
But it's too late for the poet to remember this. All his being is now awash alligator sperm.
Foxy chick. Gotta get!
Some men turn gay.
Others know that the male does eventually get there.
But so much patience, so much strategy.
Woody Allen. "There is nothing a man can do in the woman's power. Nothing. No way. The woman is more intuitive, and stronger."Even the dumbest one will not be taken advantage of sexually."
"But," says Allen, "They do fall in love". Then,one might add, they're f*cked.
But often it is the male who falls in love first, and, "What am I going to do with this?"
Biker chick will know what to do,but the femme fatale might say, "work it out for yourself." Then she goes to squash a bug. Or maybe you.
The man of experience knows that bad love from the git-go will not work. It will take months, perhaps years to resolve this.
F*ck this, he might say and go off in search for an easier conquest.
Transitional women. They're everywhere.
But there might be another more circuitous way.
It is in your hand. No, not that.
Write a book
Maybe it's what she wanted in the first place. And she as the heroine.
The lascivious instinct takes many forms.
Like the killer instinct.
You might even get her to stop squashing bugs.
It was a ladybug, mother, after all, wasn't it.
And she needed you to break the spell.
Some writer, that Dickens.