LI is shackled by a tight schedule today. And it is Valentine’s day! During our busy day yesterday (a meeting with a potential editing client, and in the evening, an invite to see a film about an election campaign in Japan, followed by music at… what was the name of that 6th street club?) we heard many disparaging things being said about Valentine’s day. Of course, LI, blistering in our sore and sour solitude, could cast an evil eye on Valentine’s day. But fuck that – those who bitch at the mighty power of Venus notoriously suffer dire fates.
Unfortunately, the American media, or the NYT, has decided on this day to treat us to a love story among the powerful – thus, the report on that über-rebarbative couple, Nicholas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni. At least it is slowly penetrating the Americanosphere that this romance “made in France” is pissing off the French royally. For some reason, the air of the can-can still lingers over “France” in the American media, as though it were a country dedicated to producing naughty postcards of women caught bending over and showing their knickers, a country where the sounds of Maurice Chevalier singing thank heaven for leeeeetle girls can always be heard winding through the streets of Gay Paree. Often though, the very cluelessness of myth rides us to an apposite conjunction of images – and so it is here. The can-can/Chevalier theme point us to the slight, persistent stench of corruption that always surrounds Sarkozy’s behavior – it is very reminiscent of the utterly corrupt behavior of French pols in the 1890s, a bribed lot of wankers who spent their graft on chorus girls (in whose beds they were notoriously prone to be found dead) when not passing laws against anarchist bomb attacks or making anti-semitic speeches. Colette was the poet of this scene, all right.
Ah, Venus, that these products of the new gilded age would be swept away in a paroxysm of your divine disgust!
Happy Valentine’s day, folks.
PS - Maybe I need to perk this post up with some positive Valentine's day vibes. So here they are.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Lawrence's Etruscans
I re-read Women in Love a couple of years ago and thought, I’m out of patience with Lawrence. Then… Then, visiting my in-law in Montpellie...
-
You can skip this boring part ... LI has not been able to keep up with Chabert in her multi-entry assault on Derrida. As in a proper duel, t... -
The most dangerous man the world has ever known was not Attila the Hun or Mao Zedong. He was not Adolf Hitler. In fact, the most dangerous m...
-
Being the sort of guy who plunges, headfirst, into the latest fashion, LI pondered two options, this week. We could start an exploratory com...
2 comments:
Memo to Venus:
Dear V., your immediate attention is required regarding the noxious "first couple" of the kingdom of France. I haven't heard if the Gods are ragging you in Olympus because of them, but down here they are making you a laughing stock, if you will pardon me for saying. But see for youself! Heloise and Abelard this pair ain't! They openly flaunt you and even make a mockery of YOUR DAY!
So pretty please, how about putting one of your hexes on them. I won't presume to offer suggestions, but V., frankly nothing could be harsh enough.
PS- I hope you'll find it in your heart to spare LI your ire, even if he did mention Maurice Chevalier on your day. Everyone has a moment of weakness, and I bet you V., his heart bleeeeds for Gaston who can't quite believe leeeetle girls grow up! Anyway, have to run, that's quite the list of errands you sent me!
Amie
Dear Venus, moi aussi. I second Amie's prayer! Although perhaps we underestimate you - you've already endowed Sarkozy with a smirk, and his previous wives seem ready to testify at the drop of a chapeau that he is the worst of lovers. Please Venus, curse France with some daytime talk show a la Star Jones that will endlessly interview these vengeful exes, thus punishing a population by filling their ears with unbearable pap and discouraging them from ever fearfully electing another conservative into office.
Post a Comment