theory, too
Feb. 25th, 2002 05:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabcf. Jintian, Mara, Jean, Melymbrosia, the rest, started me down this way --
we had dinner --
I was broke --
they were nice, they were funny, they were fun --
Cecilia and I met, we had coffee, we talked IRONY in sequins --
and she gave me julie, and we've been comparing notes --
which is to say, I've been searching piles of notebooks --
finding things I didn't know I knew --
And not finding the things I'm looking for. Course, my house is a mess now. Course, it was before.
I said, then:
I said, then, "time I met a sailor, or a traveling salesman." I said, then, "she has destroyed me."
I don't know half of what I knew then, I know twice more, and at least the handwriting was right. And when you're 19 you're supposed to be 19. It started "I know you bathed in blue" and I can't remember the rest, something about onyx, something about a field watch, something, something. And everything I had, then, was in a green notebook and a blue folder, and I can't find them, but I'm dusty now and sneezing, perpetual postnasal drip, my father says, such a drip, and I said, then, "I know I'm in love; that's the only thing I know" and I said, "I want to get out of here, now." I said it in code,
and she said, "theory, too, is a practice of desire."
we had dinner --
I was broke --
they were nice, they were funny, they were fun --
Cecilia and I met, we had coffee, we talked IRONY in sequins --
and she gave me julie, and we've been comparing notes --
which is to say, I've been searching piles of notebooks --
finding things I didn't know I knew --
And not finding the things I'm looking for. Course, my house is a mess now. Course, it was before.
I said, then:
Here, at last, the feminine enters as a synonym for the rhythm of language. Even ignoring the "intelligible verbal translation" (97) of literature, Kristeva through Mallarme insists that meaning can be deduced based on an innate, memorized set of responses to motivators in rhythm. Like all that is characterized as feminine by (male) theorists, this truth in rhythm is an enigma. Why does it work? Why does poetry have an instinctive rhythm? And why do we know?
I said, then, "time I met a sailor, or a traveling salesman." I said, then, "she has destroyed me."
I don't know half of what I knew then, I know twice more, and at least the handwriting was right. And when you're 19 you're supposed to be 19. It started "I know you bathed in blue" and I can't remember the rest, something about onyx, something about a field watch, something, something. And everything I had, then, was in a green notebook and a blue folder, and I can't find them, but I'm dusty now and sneezing, perpetual postnasal drip, my father says, such a drip, and I said, then, "I know I'm in love; that's the only thing I know" and I said, "I want to get out of here, now." I said it in code,
and she said, "theory, too, is a practice of desire."
