62. SEX

From the Archives

(March 2005) Woody Allen said “I don’t know what the question is, but sex is definitely the answer.”

My cheating pal is cheating again and I feel dirty knowing about it. And I wish I didn't have to watch her repeat this all-too-familiar pattern.

She craves intimacy and asks woman after woman out seeking connection, then runs as hard as she can when she finds it. The more attracted she is to the woman, the harder she runs (or she has another affair despite being in love with this woman, effectively destroying their intimacy and thwarting their potential, which somehow makes her feel safe and in control).

She's in a long-term relationship now that is safe, but it has never provided the intimacy that she desires. Or, as another pal said, her partner is safe, and my pal knows taht her partner will never introduce any monsters into the equation.

My friend has always been terrified of internal exploration and seems incapable of acknowledging her fears or what's going on inside that makes her unable to endure intimacy and, ultimately, leaves her miserable. Like me, she has a strong need to be perceived as competent, in control, and capable of keeping a firm handle on things—only she doesn't have the creative outlets that I have that (sometimes) balance that control and she runs away from self-awareness the first time it brings up anything scary (whereas I seek it out, for the most part).

She's been having an affair with a woman who has really helped her get beyond some of her walls and they say they’re in love with each other, but my friend has now run away three times when this woman has left everything behind in order to be with her.

I hate to see a relationship end, but I hate even more to watch her screw up because she's so afraid to let down her guard and risk getting hurt.

I think a place where my friend can expose herself and feel unconditional safety—in a relationship or, if she would tell the truth to her shrink, with her shrink—might allow her to figure out what makes her this afraid of intimacy, of digging deep, but she can't let her guard down enough to trust or accept intimacy when it is offered to her. And now she's messing up her affair, which actually seems good, by continuing to see a third woman (who will express intimacy and then my friend will find another woman and . . .).

I've thought for some time that sex is the key to getting past my friend's walls, is the thing that might give her access to those scary places in a way that doesn't cause her to run away because she's exposed and naked and might get hurt. She lets her guard down sexually (eventually) and is sexually curious, so B&D just might be the thing that will allow her to trust a woman.

I keep hoping she'll find some determined femme who's so alluring that she'll go to new sexual places with her despite her fears, someone who will dominate my friend in a safe manner so that she can finally lose control and see that she survived it.

Guess we’ll see.

23. THE TIME OF THE TURNIP

From the Archives

(March 2005) Have been thinking about the Dada movement. The urinal is the obvious symbol for this style and people latch onto it (although I prefer the fur-lined cup myself), but Dada is so much more than what is represented by either of these images. Yeah, it was an exhaustible style—and quickly so—but I love that it existed.

The Dada Manifesto that Hülsenbeck and Raoul Hausmann wrote in Berlin in April 1918 called for an “international revolutionary union of all creative men and women; for progressive unemployment through the mechanization of all fields of activity; for the abolition of private property; for the provision of free daily meals for creative people and intellectuals, for the remodeling of big-city life by a Dadaist advisory council; and for the regulation of all sexual activity under the supervision of a Dadaist sexual center. These proposals were put forward at what George Grosz called 'the time of the turnip.’”

Now I don’t know what I think about any council regulating my sexual activity, but I do recognize these artists’ disgust with the world around them. They experienced destruction in a way that is hard for Americans to fathom, knew that structures which had stood for thousands of years could be destroyed in an instant, how easily this destruction can result in permanent loss. (Think of those Catholic icons that were desecrated or destroyed in Shakespeare’s time, the cultural loss that resulted from the ruler’s need to force a particular belief system on a nation.)

The Dadaists’ disgust with the world around them symbolized their recognition of the fact that the visual images we hold dear continue to be subject to the whims of any slack-jawed pilot’s trigger-happy finger and our ruler’s good graces. That’s the point behind the Mona Lisa with a mustache. The Dadaists didn’t disrespect the painting/da Vinci so much as they lamented the reality that its existence is tenuous—that its existence is subject to the whims of people who could care less about art.

Dadaists confront the randomness of destruction in their works, and mourn a world where destruction is commonplace.

Duchamp’s Questions:
What is the irreducible element in language?
What would constitute a truly modern dictionary?
How should an index of all knowledge be organized?
To what extent can chance be given its freedom in the arts?
What are the verbal equivalents of colors that cannot be seen?
Should not every government have a Ministry of Coincidences?

Coincidences. Artists recognize the symbolic relationships between seemingly disparate elements, establish connections that some people simply can’t see until the artists point these connections out. This can resemble schizophrenic or delusional behavior, especially if the artist isn’t articulate enough or in touch with her unconsciousness enough to makes these connections resonate with others.

Now, between my mother and my sister, let me just say that there is too damn much schizophrenia in my family. Within the last month, for example, I have received a letter from my sister outlining, in detail, how her reconciliation with her ex-husband would bring about the end of conflict between Israel and Palestine, how their reunion will end the Iraqi conflict. I know that this is delusional thinking but am a logical person and therefore try hard to trace her connections, try to figure out how she reached these conclusions—which, for some reason, is important to me. And, even though it continues to be fruitless, I try to point out the logical inconsistencies in these conclusions.

My father’s approach to delusional behavior was, at first, frustration, but this quickly turned into appeasement. There was a period of time when my mother wrapped everything in plastic wrap. You’d sit on your bed and slide off it because she’d wrapped the mattress in plastic wrap (to keep some kind of evil something—germs?—inside it) when you weren’t looking. She had a witch hazel stage, too. And a tin foil stage. I came home from school one day—without a friend, thankfully—to find the entire piano wrapped in tin-foil and my father and sister and mother just sitting in the room there with it. Daddy was reading the paper across from the silver monstrosity, in fact.

There was this unspoken agreement in my family that we were supposed to pretend that the most extreme behavior was normal, that we were supposed to ignore that elephant sitting in the living room, but I could never do this. Excuse me, I inevitably said, but has anyone noticed that the fucking piano is wrapped in tin-foil!???