Sunday, August 22, 2021

tell us more

The home page of feminist performance artist Suzy Kellems Dominik has two buttons at the bottom: “Learn more” and “Stay in touch.” Though those are functional, I read them also as autonomous texts, in the spirit of Jenny Holzer: Yes, learning never ends. Yes, stay engaged.

Her site’s “contact” feature includes the request “Tell us more.” I wondered who “us” is. I wrote a dialogue in the message box, also quoting from her short biographical statement (two quotations below within one of my fanciful quote marked responses by me as character with characterization of her):

Friday, August 20, 2021

Adam of Eve’s immaculate self-conceiving

Mid-2007, I met a man in Peet’s Coffee, Walnut Square (Berkeley), which I’d forgotten these days until this week due to an amazing occurrence I’ll mention later here.

We had our first conversation when I saw him reading a book on Ingmar Bergman. The Dutch man, named Gerrit, called himself Geri, pronounced “Gary,” which I guess ruins my credibility here about my recounting. But there are coincidences in life.

He was an art historian getting more deeply interested in film history, visiting from Amsterdam as a UCB resident scholar. We crossed paths numerous Saturdays because I had the habit of hanging out there before doing my weekly grocery run.

Early 2009, I began to tell him about my relationship to Terese (a very long story) which was frustrating because I wanted to see her not commit to a marriage that she seemed to not really want (which would be felt by her future children, which she also seemed to not want, but her future husband did; so, she was acquiescent—actually, depressive; a bad omen). Since I had enough challenge finding time away from our department for what I loved, I couldn’t accept that a talented woman would reject the appeal of creative independence (especially since she entered college wanting creative independence).

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

being mirrored in telic cohering of The Appeal

I write things, then forget their there
because I’m drawn toward writing the next
thing. I forget, then happen by, being
amazed!: I did that?

From altitude, the tropography is simply clear,
having a curious prettiness. Who’d surmise
a mode’s emerging tropology intimates a beauty
of tropogeny through awed praise?

Dear Appealing, what’s the singularity
of sourcing so cohering, having no name
for all the centripetality flowering
in itself?

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

singularity of a life

This is part 1 of—prefacing—“soul of Self interest

Normally for me, I don’t use ‘soul’, except relative to others’ use; but I’m fascinated by common appeal of that sense of Self (which is what “soul” is), which is of course historically rich.

I’m fascinated like an ethnographer might be fascinated—or a philologist
or psychoanalyst.

Friday, September 4, 2020


This is part 13 of “soul of Self interest

“I love audacities of creative life, even if you don’t forever want philological wonders.”

So said Jacques to Hélène via my imagination.

No, because you’ll die in six years anyway. My grief must someday end.”