and god created the godless whore

you must must must go read angela simione's brave ecstatic agoniste, her essaying on how to write the relentless self, and in this essay she performs such a brave liberating exorcism, using both dodie bellamy's barf manifesto and my novel o fallen angel (which is writing a refracted self, but still a writing of the self, of experience). and through this personal emotional reading of the work, she performs just a dead-on amazing feminist reading  that does not pretend the critic/reader is some objective self but lives and breathes through the work itself.  the essay is not about o fallen angel, it transcends and is beyond the work, it is instead a manifesto about how criticism should and could function, and what writing should and could be.


"girls dressed up in the red whore robes of the cautionary tale..."

"have kept me zippered and buttoned and flailing in silence"

yes yes yes. have tingles and chills. such an urgent and fearless ACT of criticism.


i am going through a strange liminal phase of life, i have an essay bubbling inside of me, i have been on the road for 6 hours driving back to akron from chicago in between the first week of classes, before i sat in the hospital room and held my uncle's hand and stroked his body and murmured soothing nothings, a labor of 9 hours while he passed, i have had three hours of sleep, i will fly out for the wake on friday. but what extraordinary clear thoughts i'm thinking, if much sombered, about life and consciousness and literature. and feeling, yes, the agony & the ecstasy of it all.