Stellarc and a sexual reverie

Last night AC and I went to view Stellarc. I say view because when you are talking about someone like him, you go along expecting some kind of spectacle. Perhaps I was being an art groupie, expecting him to deliver some amaaaaaazing performance in a Carlton bookshop. It was not to be....it was quite disappointing...

I talked to KF today about wanting to have sex/not having sex/feeling asexual. She said that she wrote that she felt like having sex again and then felt embarrassed about it. This morning AH made a comment about arty people having more sex....?? (I think he was reading an article) and I asked "what's wrong with me then?" I hate feeling like not having sex is bad, and even worse, not particularly having any desire to. Sometimes I think wistfully about intimacy and romance, but very rarely about uninhibited, intense fucking.

AC and I were talking last night about national self esteem, tall poppy syndrome and aboriginal cultures. He said that perhaps Australia developed this self effacing and 'humble' culture because of the effects of aboriginal demonstrations of respect, shame, modesty. It is interesting that we don't often consider to any great degree, where our national self esteem is built. We are very bad at the art of self promotion. I was telling AC about a workshop I went to where an aboriginal guy talked about the differences between aboriginal and non aboriginal stuctures like family and community. I hate the American dream, and the disgusting and cruel individualism they promote. I like the idea of genuine community - like the aboriginal family. The guy at the workshop talked about how within aboriginal communities, if someone earns money, it is shared within the community. I am so part of this spending and ownership thing, that I am quite romanced by the idea of equitable communities. Communal. Ha ha, remember my commune idea? I still think about that...

We also talked about anti sedition. We agreed that rather than vote and complain, we should really do something. I don't know what to do or what is appropriate (or useful!). Of course, I'm always more into guerilla activities, because I'm that kinda gal. And I like the cred that comes from being naughty. Reminds me of a line in the Breakfast Club about how it feels good to be bad.

Now for a list. I've been bad with the lists recently. I don't remember the last one I wrote. It is important to keep them for posterity though. My poor little book of lists is yawning...

Things That Shit Me To Tears:

• intense and unselfconscious selishness and self indulgence
• middle aged women patronising younger women and assuming they are naive
• middle aged second wave feminists (or those who think they are) who feel that it is their right to devalue and humiliate men, especially young men.
• dim/mood/romantic lighting.
• having someone's arm around me when I'm walking
• bogan driving
• insipid and infantilised women
• disappointment

I am really dreading going to Hobart for Christmas. My mother has gone crazy again......again again again.......she's accusing dad of having affairs again. What never ceases to shock me is the deep and profound lack of respect she has for him. And in some ways also him for her. As a partner, I'm not sure how you could respect her. The only time Zo and I fight is in Hobart, around her.

So now the grandmother is in hospital to die, lying prone in a bed and looking like an old fungus. Her body is eating itself. When I look at a cigarette, I think of tar, nicotine and carbon monoxide and I wonder if I will end up with incapacitating pain, crippling me to a bed. I don't think about dignity, and the humiliation and loss of control that occurs in the process of death. For some reason I like the idea of it, as if it is the ultimate experience, or as if it is the expereince of being ultimate. I appreciate the horrible things in life. And I appreciate the idea of the slow and cruel descent towards death. Perhaps it is the idea that everything falls away from you? All these qualities that we consider to me of utmost importance, and then the body itself begins to fall away, to become disconnected and dysfunctional. I like that idea.