A.L. Kennedy is really damn funny. Though I think I've linked it before, the FAQ on her site is good stuff. Maud Newton excerpts some of the touring essay here, and as much as I want to excerpt the orgasm paragraph--for purely informational purposes, of course--I'll let you find it yourself. Here's another choice bit:
The point I'm trying to make is, the author you look at on stage, who may appear sane and healthy, may actually be undergoing multiple humiliations designed to deconstruct his or her entire personality. If they didn't already know they were ugly, hours of prodding and teasing will have convinced them. They will be vaguely aware that they are sluggish and stupefied with tiredness, when they ought to seem wise, or at least coherent, like an author should. If they are anything like me, they will find that four or five days of signing – and I don't ever have to sign that much, bear in mind – four or five days of signing will mean that they lose their ability to reproduce their own signature. My signature is a dreadful scrawl anyway, but trust me, it's truly alarming when all you can produce is a completely unfamiliar dreadful scrawl and you can't explain this to the well-meaning stranger in front of you, because they might become alarmed if you begin rocking and moaning and wondering if you'll ever be able to write a cheque again.
Hell, I sign two register receipts in one day, I might as well be trying to work that pen like I've got no opposable thumb. I wonder if it's too late to go into, like, politics, or construction, or something?
(And no, by the way, in case the humor was lost in translation, I do not refer to myself as "pre-published." I prefer the term "pre-dead," actually, because as with all troubled geniuses, it won't be until after I've left this mortal coil that the brilliance of my work will be...yeah, no.)
No comments:
Post a Comment