Well it's more Sunday morning than Saturday night so forgive and forget this
one before it's started but the beard/ razor debate awoken in me something I
read so long ago which I  can't place.   I know it was by a male and
methinks an American so  I think maybe Mailer or Miller but maybe no one
beginning with 'M' who said words to this effect
:  'she could never be a good/serious writer...her nails are far too well
manicured.'  Which I suppose echoes Debusy's comment about the pianist's bra
strap.   Needless to say I have kept my nails perfectly manicured and
painted ever since.    No, to be honest they just grow to perfection on
their own accord so I have always admired and  painted them with no
detrimental effect to my poetic output  (Bra straps are a law unto
themselves as any woman knows).
         But seriously folks, all this 'use your ears like a man'  and'
bristles before breakfast' does glorify a state of humaness which is only,
after all, only human which leads me to my point of image.  In HIS own and
all that crap.
    The worst thing, imagewise, as a poet that could have happened to me is
that I was born a woman, not to be skinny and be a blue eyed blonde with
perfectly manicured nails. Y'aw.  It is  the biggest bummer I can think of.
But it's what born me with (sic).   (Watching too much Ali G').    I think
of the females:  Las Brontes, Ms Barnes, Ms Sitwell ( and here I pose with
dying envy over Edith-still-falls) Woolf, Dickinson, Smith, all long noses
and maybe hairy legs. Image is  a prob that dogs women poets..the less
standard 'femine' the better.   Let's talk waxing and waning.   We're all
(men/women)  stuffed into our little  sad dysfunctional bodies.  Ho- zanah.
Pissed and off
night night all
G





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