Beach accident in Coney Island, 1957, Margaret Bourke-White
Visual ‘proliferation’ as I call it has always made my skin crawl; part repulsion, part fascination. Has someone (Freud, probably!) written about this sensation?
(Source: secretcinema1, via banshee-hands)
My fav moment of Town Bloody Hall, starring the devastating Cynthia Ozick!
What I love about the way she frames her question at the end is how it mimics/mocks the amateur’s position, the way the would-be writer begs the God-author for the details of His desk and habits in the hope that copying the method will produce the (divine) madness. Mailer’s superciliousness presupposes all women artists in this supplicatory position. Humor over anger is the weapon concealed in Ozick’s thought here, (earlier, Mailer accuses feminists, not incorrectly, of being “humorless”) and with it she castrates his misogynist fallacies more effectively than anyone else that night.
“I even planned a last radio talk … . I have made a number of radio talks on all kinds of subjects, in Denmark … . They seem to enjoy me as a radio speaker there … . I planned a talk on how easy it was to die … . Not a morbid message, I don’t mean that, but a message of, well, cheer … that it was a great and lovely experience to die. But I was too ill, you know, to get it done. Now, after being so long in the nursing home and so ill, I don’t feel I do really belong to this life. I am hovering like a seagull. I feel that the world is happy and splendid and goes on but that I’m not part of it. I’ve come to Rome to try and get into the world again. Oh, look at the sky now!”