Have I found my calling?
The other day I sat down to write something completely absurd concerning the malaise of the rich and how it affects early feminine sexuality in Holland*…
Suddenly, the events of a Valentine’s Day dinner at some fancy restaurant in Austin, based on “Justine” by Marquis du Sade, completely hijacked my stereotypical writing style and I started writing pages and pages and pages of erotica. Feverishly. Hysterically, even. I’m going to keep this short and say I got in to a zone. In my dream world, Anaïs Nin and I have to share equally the praises of both the critics and the people for our high art erotica our dramatic and tumultuous love affairs…
More than likely, though, my books will end up at the “Take and Return at Leisure” section of the library and be stolen by curious eleven year old girls. Whichever the case, I am having an excellent time writing really intense pieces, “recycling, reducing, and reusing” all of the sensual details of every sexual encounter I’ve ever had**, making some shit up about sex that other people have had; forcing those people to be strange and puzzling characters; utilizing them in contexts that make the carnal event significant somehow … or sometimes I just write about myself making love on ecstasy last week in a VW Van with a divorced guy. Let’s just say that if I am in Irony’s favor a couple of years from now, the personal bullshit erotica written in my disgustingly hip Molskine notebook will get me unjustly into Iowa*** …or something!
*Total hyperbole
**Ex boyfriends: You’re everywhere. Pray you made a lasting impression.
***Despite how excellent the school is, it’s also in Iowa. So I will never go there.
Love you all,
AUDJ