secrets and Kate Zambreno and DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR DAUGHTERS ARE?

i have now read Kate Zambreno's book O Fallen Angel twice. both times, in one hot shot all the way through. both times out loud. and i'm going to tell you how wonderful it is very soon but i'm still letting it run through me, digest it and see the connections: Wal-mart and Wife Swap and Baudelaire. yes, Baudelaire! because your book finally slung that in to place, it now makes sense, the imaginary land we traverse. yes. "the banality of evil". these pervasive horrors. horrors with a little h. it's like trying to see the air. it's all around you, it's in you. how do you stop gulping it down?

but for now... the best thing i can give you, Kate, by way of endorsement and appreciation, by way of showcasing gratitude is to show you what you've inspired. because isn't that the best testament of how wonderful your work is? that you made me think and you made me feel and you made me laugh and you made me read your book TWICE IN ONE DAMN WEEK and you made me write write write. because it's important to let you know that i know that Mommy too. i've met a lot of Mommies. and i know the horrors that twist through the suburbs, the creeping gross things that are ignored, minimized, squelched, the OH, GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF! IT'S NOT THAT BAD! and all the deceptions that smear a person's face. all the tragedies that get swept away, filed away, because the community's standards of decency will not tolerate such words. because THIS IS THE SUBURBS! NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS HERE!

as pervasive as air.


this is an excerpt from The Letter i'm writing... part of what i wrote today. still raw, still running in so many directions at once, but it is a purge. the broken dam. i'm sure you'll see your touch on it. it is my tribute to your ideas and fearlessness. it is a huge, huge THANK YOU!

buy her book.







excerpt:





and they'd say L.A. IS JUST A SHINIER VERSION OF EVERYWHERE ELSE and WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO GO TO SEATTLE? SEATTLE IS A DIRTY HIPPIE MESS! and THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE IN NEW YORK BUT BUMS DYING ON THE SIDEWALK and SAN FRANCISCO IS WHERE ALL THE FAGS ARE! WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO GO THERE? ARE YOU A FAG TOO? FAGS ROT IN HELL!

and so in San Francisco, i saw the films of Sadie Benning. and i wasn't at all impressed. not one bit. none of this was News to me. because i was poor and i already knew all of this. i had already SAID all of this. i had notebooks full of it. and i was poor and in a class that wasn't really built to hold that particular wealth of knowledge, and i knew all the hate all the anger all the injustice all the everything Sadie Benning was talking about. i already knew what it was to be Outside- because poor people burn in hell too, just like a pack of FAGS. especially in high school. HA! HA! HA! YOU'RE WEARING THE WRONG SHOES! HEY EVERYBODY, LOOK AT ANGELA'S SHOES! SHE'S GOT FAKE DOC MARTENS! DID YOU GET THOSE FROM PAY-LESS? HA! HA! HA! and OH MY GOD! IS YOUR SHIRT HOME-MADE? HA! HA! HA! but i looked around the classroom. i looked around at the faces of the other students and the face of the teacher and i saw how taken aback they were that a young girl would say such things, such unpleasant things, so full of spite and resentment and refusal. i saw the sweep of astonishment spread across their faces and their mouths drop down in long O's when she said YEAH, I AM GONNA DITCH SCHOOL AGAIN TOMORROW. WHO'S GONNA STOP ME? and the Horror! the Amazement! and they said there is eloquence and honesty here. and all i could think was but but but. because i had said these same words. i had made identical statements. over and over again. and i assure you, my mother did not think it "eloquent and honest" no. and even though i wasn't lesbian, i sure was accused of it a lot. baggy clothes and combat boots and NO MAKE-UP and NO BOYFRIEND. and they threw food at Jose during lunch time because he was A FUCKING FAGGOT and none of the teachers ever put a stop to it because he was A FUCKING FAGGOT and because he was A FUCKING MEXICAN and this was all going down in a lily-white republican suburb in California. and WHY ARE YOU HANGING OUT WITH HIM? ARE YOU A FAGGOT TOO? ARE YOU A NIGGER LOVER? HE'S A FUCKING SAND NIGGER. ANGELA IS A NIGGER LOVER! ANGELA IS A NIGGER LOVER! HA! HA! HA! and in the suburbs: friends getting fucked by their daddies, friends getting raped by their daddies and their mommies ignoring it, friends getting ignored by their mommies, their mommies deserving a little F-U-N, young girls sleeping with full grown men for small bags of speed, friends stealing other friends TVs for small bags of speed, 15 year old girls getting pregnant and losing their babies at the 8th month because their parents were doing speed too. and the poor girl (god bless and keep you, Jackie) couldn't quit with her parents snorting lines right in front of her scared, sweet face. couldn't quit with those lines those lines those lines stacked up so nicely on a dirty tabloid magazine on the dirty coffee table:

i heard the ambulance coming and it turned up the road and it stopped in front of Jackie's house.

Jackie and i had met in the 6th grade. both new kids. both poor kids. both unbearably shy and sweet and never ever talking back. and then the day came when all the little children had to line up and get their head checked by the school nurse. LICE OUTBREAK! and one by one, the little children filed out. and one by one, they came back. unless they had been INFESTED WITH LICE! the dirty person's disease! you knew who had it because they didn't come back to class. and Jackie did not come back to class that day. and i wanted to cry. i kept watching the door, hoping to see her, hoping hoping hoping no no no. and she never came back and the refrain began: ANGELA, WHERE'S YOUR FRIEND? HA! HA! HA! ANGELA IS FRIENDS WITH THE DIRTY GIRL! ANGELA IS FRIENDS WITH THE DIRTY GIRL! ANGELA'S DIRTY TOO! POOR GIRL! POOR GIRL! POOR GIRLS GET LICE! SHOW US YOUR LICE, ANGELA! HA! HA! HA! and it was worse for Jackie on Monday when Jackie came back to class. we played together until Christmas break, way out at the far edge of the play ground, by ourselves. Jackie didn't come back to school after Christmas.

i met her again when we were 15 and i was so happy! her smile was just the same. we were 15 and both still so poor, both still so sweet. we were 15 and out came Jackie on a stretcher, oxygen mask over her face. flat on her back. huge pregnant belly. still as a corpse.

no one said a word.

weeks had passed. i saw Jackie on the street. stomach flat. no baby. i waved at her. she waved back and kept walking. she was wearing a blue sun dress with little white flowers on it. no baby. she was heading back home. no baby. no one said a word.

and so- in the suburbs: 15 year old girls getting pregnant and being sent to continuation school. yanked out of regular school because they weren't allowed to be there in their "delicate condition". there was a Clause at the normal High School. WE MUST PROTECT THE IMAGE! WE HAVE PRIDE IN OUR COMMUNITY! WE HAVE PRIDE IN OURSELVES! and so the careless girls were sent to continuation school, yanked out of their classes with their friends and the teachers grown to love and trust. yanked out and hidden, sent to the BAD KIDS SCHOOL, for deciding against abortion. because ABORTION SENDS YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL! but your swollen belly offends! your swollen belly will not be tolerated! your swollen belly is an attack on our good, lily-white, Christian values! and so we will hide you until you look Normal again, until you LOOK All-American again, until you can PASS for being one of US.

and so i was a 16 year old scrunch-face with no one to talk to- talking to my notebook the way Sadie Benning talked to her video camera. only i wasn't tough like Sadie Benning, i only looked like it because of my scrunch-face. i was shy and afraid and i kept to myself, one blue eye risked toward the world, i kept to myself and i planned to go on keeping to myself until the day came where i could finally get the fuck out of this fucking place.