i am sure you are all riveted by me trying to sort out the religous implications of toni morrison; if you are not here are some more things that are exciting.

reading pat's co worker chris's blog he makes a tradtional refutation of porn on artistic merrit and not scaring breeders, both of which sort of piss me off.
a) why should queer folx care about pleasing straights, it is our culture that is being banned, censored, destroyed, broken--that should be our arguement, not trying to include everyone in a peaceful kum bay aye.
b) why cannot we be honest and say that the cheif merit of this work is that it makes my cock hard--like people mocking ebert about his thumb rising with his penis, or me getting in shit for admitting the only reason i want to see FF is because of humpy chris evans (who i have already wanked too (jesus the thing was marketed that way)
(side note about the movie--worth the cash i payed mostly because of a scene where he is wearing a t shirt, with a dozen holes burnt in it, including one perfectly framing his left nipple--that left nipple, i could write sonnets about it)

reading novel gazing, and there was this strange, fecund essay about beloved in it (qouted below) that and the one she put in curiouser (i shouldnt have given my copy to glenys--she wont fucking read it) made me write a fan letter to her, askign for transcripts for lectures she delivered at yale (she has an m div there)

update on come to the garden alone--a duet from chely wright and brad paisley called something like my son--which features the strange purely american line "god how could this be yr will/to have yr son and my son die for me"--the inclusion of christ as a member of the american corpus, sort of like the mythical jimmy stewart all american soilder that emerges when the right talks about our sons over there (or the left in another capacity)
(side note--the cover art on paisleys new album is unbelivably shitty--got an advance coming via stylus, though and the first single is good)

thinking of the back lash wrt john irvings latest novel, and his sex abuse charges
a) he told the newspapers (in the globe&ew so far) that he didnt realize the 20 yr old babysitter fucking him at 11 was abusive until his later sexual behaviour, his taste for older women, the subtle shifts of authority and power that happened in the reptile brain, and thinking about my mom asking why i didnt tell her about shepred earlier, and tellign her, that i was in love with him, and also thinking about my sexual history, and how littered it is with fathers (sometimes literally) and older brothers
b) his book apparently is supposed to be much less framed then it usually is, and because of surgery. etc he could not wrestle/box/run/etc as much as he usually does during hte creation of this--in fact some of the surgery was him trying to catch up w. his son on a new track at exeter which is so typical as to move from cliche to archytype. i wonder if his physical activity relaates to his creation of the text, his novels are taut, coperal objects, resting on questions of flesh more then questions of mind--can we extrapoloate that?

notes on the drs appt.
1) waited an hour, my fault for the first 15 minutes, there fault for the rest.
2) across from me, two red haired kiwi twins, sleeping with heads on each other shoulders.
3) never read critical essays on proust while waiting for the doctor, just dont.
4) talked to the intern more then the doctor, who did the standard neurotests.
b) when he did hte narrative, he did the hmmhmm thing, to fake that he cared.
5) i suck at them, cannot walk a straight line, have to move my head to follow his finger, have no side vision, etc
6) the narrative is always in the 2nd person, because i dont know what happens when i have one of the falldowngobooms
7) they kept calling them incidents--like the dwarves were toasting with champagne, judging the fdgb like one would judge the oscars
8) pissing in the washroom, one sees a notice about herpes at about penis level--not reassuring.
9) dr gross has long black hair, a blue armani shirt that looks vaguely maoist, prentious glasses--he spent about 5 minutes with me, explaining that he was taking me off the larger list and getting me on the two hour telemetry.
10) he told me that well tagetrol made it worse, like this was the key to everything, but didnt give me any information.
11) three people where there, the intern, dr gross, and a woman called daphene, who had no role i could determine.
12) the three to one really didnt help the anxiety i always have in drs officess.
13) at the end, i always feel like gulliver being tied down by a million people, the size of ants.
14) 18 months for the larger telemetry.