Monday, June 03, 2002

Hi Love Buckets:

Off to the final Stripes show in a bit.

Tony Pierce's blog recently quoted a certain friend of his, who said most great women writers were crazy, and that it's not as impressive when someone crazy writes something great. (I.e., Boys are better than girls.)

I believe I know which crippled intellect produced this most contorted rationalization for its own bigotry. And yes, it is bigotry.

Here's what I have to say about that. First of all, it is highly questionable that most great women writers were crazy. If you doubt me, check out Molli's short list of 27 non-crazy women writers, which is just a starting point.(

Genius of the American frontier Willa Cather was as sane as rain. Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison? Please. Or my favorite genius of the moment, Jane Austen? Her brain was tight as a certain unnamed bigot's ass.

Furthermore, I very much doubt that the ratio of crazy/noncrazy women writers is different from that of male writers.

Finally, to say that it's not impressive when someone crazy does something great shows a gross misunderstanding of ways of depression, bipolarism, paranoid schizophrenia, alcoholism (and addiction in general). For every Brian Wilson, or Virginia Woolf, there are a hundred Joe Schizophrenics who can barely make it through the day, much less produce monumental artistic masterworks.

It's a fucking miracle when someone suffering from mental illness gets it together for extended periods of time to write a novel or record an album. And for it to be clear and good.

I am tired of small-minded creeps like Tony's friend spouting fear-based nonsense about my people, when it is obvious that women are alchemists with powers beyond the grasp of any man. Women are the gatekeepers to the Mystery, and you know it.

So shut the fuck up.


After three Stripes shows I understand a little better why I love them so. I will go into greater detail about this later, but it has to do with the sexual communion between them. It has to do with Meg's deep and strong female yin and Jack's scattershot, awkward masculine sexuality, and the way these two complete each other.

They are not just making love up there. They are, like, making flowers and trees. Great, broad, deep green trees. That's what I see when I close my eyes at their shows. I see all the trees they have planted.

This is the next step for rock 'n' roll: Crazy punk garage rock that is, at its essence, creative--not destructive. This is not music about tearing down and destroying. This is music about making things and having sex and making life happen.

And it couldn't have happened without girl.



No comments: