A woman is not attributed an intrinsic identity because she is a caricature of a castrated man; castrated politically, socially and sexually. It denies and projects unacceptable feelings of envy for the phallic qualities of a Gentile. Freud said so, but I think he’s strange. The Oedipus Complex, the Electra Complex….he has seen it all. But I’m not sure of it myself.
“Moses will not let go of my imagination.”
“Moses torments me like an unlaid ghost.”
The body knows much without knowing. We are innocent. The imagination sees much that it does not need to understand. Like the blue breath of the serene sky. Or the hot moment of the thrusting cock. Or the solidest of fleshy realities, the over-abundant power of birth, of fucking, of azure breezes. Hakim Bey is a brilliant man.
The Phallic amulet is not the penis of the animal god, but of Priapus, a god of vegetation. It is the penis of fruit and flower- in some sense, a female penis. It would have been unthinkable. What is unthinkable?
The Mystic Nativity is painted by a man. His name….? It begins with a “G”. He paints dark things.
A woman in this world has bells on her fingers and rings on her toes, and a tattoo of a dragon on her right breast, a huge right breast unfortunately unmatched by a small left breast.
I must investigate the subject of my life now. How exceedingly ghostly I seek to follow something beyond the shadowy regions of our world.