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(semi-)daily scratching

on my bedstand:

i rapporti sociali nella recherche - a. morosetti
conference on fairy tales studies: acts - aa.vv.
fairy tales - w. hauff

on my list:

el buscon - quevedo
libidinal economy - j.-f. lyotard


genoa's forts


tuesday, july second - a bit cloudy and pleasantly warm

it's been a month. time flies, tempus fugit. yuk. feeling oppressed. don't feel like getting an operation, don't need one. doc says: don't do it unless it's absolutely necessary. not necessary. ergo, no can do. but: what if i still want a child? i'm not getting any younger, situation however far from established, even with him. senseless to plan for motherhood at my age, right?

torn apart.

just seen a few accounts of women who've gone through all this (and much more) and realized it's not time yet. call me a coward, call me what you like, but i ain't gonna do it. cramps are not that bad, actually last time they weren't there at all. migraine, yes, but that's a whole new bowl of wax. belly a bit swollen, but that's colitis, old friend. sure, all these things could be attributed to endo, just like cancer, just like colitis. who knows? anyway, i'd rather wait.

>> your body can be a great healer, you know? meow, i hate 'em doctors, you let them get their dirty hands on you once and you'll never get rid of them. they'll start cutting you into pieces, then pump you with pills of sorts, then cut you again into other tiny pieces, and so on and so forth, 'til you've got no more pieces to give. if it ain't broke, don't fix it! <<

tuesday, june fourth - a bit cloudy and warm

feeling horny. yummy thoughts on my mind. distance makes the hearts grow fonder, and something else as well. hm. talk about it a lot and resort to meager satisfaction. see him on sunday. yum. clyto not too happy about my distraction, but she's got plenty to distract herself with. planning short romantic vacation. hey, don't look at me like i'm some crazy female!

>> i really can't figure you out. first you bid me to bite him hard and scratch him, then you go all gung-ho about him and hee hee ho ho isn't he cute? as long as you don't give him any of my biscuits, he's ok. i just wish you don't neglect me so. i love you too, you know? <<

wednesday, may twentysecond - sunny sunny sunny, very

made important decision. no, clyto, i'm not sending you away, but very likely i will go away. i need room, i need space, i need to be by myself. and above all, i need to get on with my life. his tears are delicious, deliciously sacred! that will be my standard from now on.

>> bad man gone away, yes? <<

yes, clyto, bad man gone away. but it wasn't such a bad man after all, you know? in fact, if you want to come live with us, you're mighty welcome.

>> will there be dogs? other cats? kids? <<

no dogs no, clyto, but there may be other cats, who knows. and probably kids. does that bother you?

>> actually, i'd much rather be the center of attention, it's so gratifying and slurpy. must you really have other cats? aren't i enough fur for you? <<

wednesday, may eighth - rainy rainy rainy, gloomy

raining outside and inside. must be a real pain in the ass human being, if even clyto has chosen to take refuge in the next room, comforted by my cushy, warm comforter. sigh.

feeling very gloomy. glum. plumb. no, actually, laden. ooh whatever. i don't know myself today. feel angry. yes, not sad, but depressed angry (or angry depressed, pick your choice). don't want to bother you with my bla-bla-bla whine, but hey, i should always be available for everyone, alwasy at anyone's ready disposal, and then i never have the time to do my work. nobody around here seems to understand that i cannot just work bits and pieces, preferably listening to their jibbery useless talk, just like that. i need concentration, i need for nobody to interrupt me every five second or so (and for the most trivial reasons, at that!).

had busy, but immemorable dreams last night. then jagged out of sleep (and bed) by screaming, noisy movers just under my window. at six-thirty in the morning! i don't know if that set my mood this way, but it certainly didn't improve it. yuk.

>> i thought you didn't want anybody around, mum. sorry you feel this way. do you want to know why i like your comforter? because it is yours! you have to get yourself off from this track of negative thinking. not everyone is out to get you (see? i'm not denying that someone is out to get you!!); some of us really love you and respect you. at least, yours truly does. trust me. so smile, kid, you deserve it! <<

saturday, april twentyseventh - rainy and sunny, springy

maybe start writing again. against. panic at first. it's so easy when you tell something new, invented from scratch (but which is never wholly new). not so easy when you have to tell something that in some way has already been written or told. and yet, isn't that which a real writer can muster?

fairy tales still very much on my mind; occasionally they come in handy too. bizarre feeling when discovering that some enchanted (and enchanting) hero has his ancestor in some epic, ancient myth. but can really a sea-storm explain the age-old fabuleme of the fight with the dragon? there must be something more.

a period of french cinema. the other night caught the last third of "nelly et mr. arnaud". delightful, delicate, intriguing. sautet is really a modern day marivaux! actually, what particularly struck me was the affinity of a particular scene with what i had just learned that day. nelly breaks with vincent: he tells her he has found a good home for the two of them, putting her in a very difficult position. she has to make it clear that she does not intend to go living with anyone just for the moment and that's the way it is. vincent does not take it well and breaks off. emmanuelle béart is at one time both beautifully intense and vulnerable. she offers to go for a walk, but he turns her down, signalling that it is over, as of right now. one of those conflicting moments we have all been through at least once in our lifetime.

last night was alain robbe-grillet's turn. sade seen through the eyes of buñuel. constantly toying with plot, script, self-refs, meta-discourse, and the like. at times gets a bit ridiculous and slightly pretentious, but good for a few laughs anyway.

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