*Our Lady of the Flowers
Our Lady of the Flowers -Jean Genet
In the long-evening half-light of mid-American dusk, the smell of barbecue and panting dogs and summer children, sun tea cooling on the gravel driveway and mosquitoes in helices around the porchlight in the deep green unmown lawns to the slow romance of the crickets, the dandelion is sexing itself. The starfish breaks an arm to fragment a new organism. The coffee tree is autogamous. Most amazing is the aphid, which is usually parthenogenic, generationally telescoping, born with a baby in the belly, sometimes born with a baby and a grand-baby in the belly. But the aphid will still have sex, Genet is idiodioecious, and under his covers he is only a man, hard-on, mind womb wound around a semi-gendered Darling who gains the male pronoun like the blooming phallic raceme of the foxglove but sometimes slips into the deep curtsy of a little girl.
This book inspired me to research the hymen, which is only present in the following animals: llamas, guinea pigs, manatees, moles, toothed whales, chimpanzees, elephants, rats, lemurs, seals, and horses.
Besides the hot sex, it was hard for me to pay attention to this book. I let the words, though, the slick hard style of it, gloss over me. Coat me. And I marveled at a phrase, a situation, but, especially towards the end, completely lost myself to its pages.
“The swan, borne up by its mass of white feathers, cannot go to the bottom of the water to find mud, nor can Jesus sin.”
“It was a smile that was enough to damn his judges, a smile so azure that the guards themselves had an intuition of the existence of God and of the great principles of geometery.”
“He was good-looking—as are all the males in this book, powerful and lithe, and unaware of their grace.”
“like violins being skinned alive.”
In the long-evening half-light of mid-American dusk, the smell of barbecue and panting dogs and summer children, sun tea cooling on the gravel driveway and mosquitoes in helices around the porchlight in the deep green unmown lawns to the slow romance of the crickets, the dandelion is sexing itself. The starfish breaks an arm to fragment a new organism. The coffee tree is autogamous. Most amazing is the aphid, which is usually parthenogenic, generationally telescoping, born with a baby in the belly, sometimes born with a baby and a grand-baby in the belly. But the aphid will still have sex, Genet is idiodioecious, and under his covers he is only a man, hard-on, mind womb wound around a semi-gendered Darling who gains the male pronoun like the blooming phallic raceme of the foxglove but sometimes slips into the deep curtsy of a little girl.
This book inspired me to research the hymen, which is only present in the following animals: llamas, guinea pigs, manatees, moles, toothed whales, chimpanzees, elephants, rats, lemurs, seals, and horses.
Besides the hot sex, it was hard for me to pay attention to this book. I let the words, though, the slick hard style of it, gloss over me. Coat me. And I marveled at a phrase, a situation, but, especially towards the end, completely lost myself to its pages.
“The swan, borne up by its mass of white feathers, cannot go to the bottom of the water to find mud, nor can Jesus sin.”
“It was a smile that was enough to damn his judges, a smile so azure that the guards themselves had an intuition of the existence of God and of the great principles of geometery.”
“He was good-looking—as are all the males in this book, powerful and lithe, and unaware of their grace.”
“like violins being skinned alive.”
posted by JohnWashington at 4:14 PM
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