February 16, 2022

I've been reading The Buddhist by Dodie Bellamy; -- stay tuned for a BLog on that once I've finished; -- (who knows how to punctuate that?) it's a collection of blog posts Bellamy had written while going through a breakup with a man she called "The Buddhist." She's married, and this is her affair (although her husband knows and supports her in it). It's not a good relationship, and she knows that and it's hurting her, but she's struggling to let go. She's going through that process of longing after the thing has already spoiled. I relate hard. I think people are like a sack of very precious jelly beans. Somebody lets you in their sack, lets you eat a jelly bean, and it's the best thing you've ever tasted. You have another: mmm, the best. As you go on, the flavors get more complex. There are some bitter and sour ones, some bland ones. Then sometimes, at some point, you get a really bad one. It breaks your heart. But maybe a good tasting one comes after that. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes there seem to be only bad tasting ones left. And sometimes you get one that you're pretty sure is just feces. But it's hard to stop eating because you know that you ate a jelly bean from this sack that was the best tasting thing in the world, and there's still a chance that the next one you eat might be one of those. In my case, and in Bellamy's case, and maybe in many people's cases, I have to eat a whole lot of black pepper/puke/turd/smog flavored jelly beans before I want to stop eating. And then even once I want to stop eating, I eat some more. And then finally finally, after my fourth toe fungus one, my body is like Okay, no more of that. And I step away from the bag. Even still, years later, I'll probably think back to it and remember the best tasting ones, the little voice in my head saying, "but remember how you also ate literal shit." 

BLog Time! 

Nelson, Maggie – THE ARGONAUTS 

Published: 2015

Read: 02/2022

Okay, so this book is short and all over the place. It’s memoir, essays, theory, and honestly some other stuff. I am thinking of rereading it. It’s a lot about Nelson’s relationship with her partner. At first she doesn’t know their pronouns and is worried about asking. Later, her partner undergoes testosterone therapy and a mastectomy. She and her partner talk about language, whether it cheapens everything it touches. Nelson talks about a book by Dodie Bellamy called The Buddhist, which I’m reading now. It’s making me kind of forget/confuse the two. 

I really liked this book. It’s visceral. There’s ass fucking right there between discussions about art. The prose is tripping over itself – it keeps coming – and lyrical. I’m reading a lot of stuff right now that’s less constrained and more full of everything. I’m liking it a lot. 

Rating:  ★★★★