In order to keep to my new year’s resolution of blogging more (if this counts as blogging) I have decided to start a series of installments. Basically, Bhanu Kapil, my 2nd semester advisor and extreme super nova wrote a book called The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers published by Kelsey St. Press in 2001. To be blunt and inarticulate, it is made of amazing. In this book, the author, Bhanu Kapil, “traveled in India, England, and the United States, interviewing Indian women of diverse ages and backgrounds.” (Kapil 6)
In this space, starting today, I will take 12 days and answer the 12 questions Bhanu asks in The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers. If you become inspired, answer these questions.
1) Who are you and whom do you love?
The space of writing.
A convex, glowing pulse.
Writing woke up in the quiet 5am darkness, located the pulsing, incantatory satellite and put that body in its mouth.
Writing shut itself up with eating. Writing eats inspiration.
An anthropormorphic mode of self-preservation. I don’t believe in the muse. I believe in the thing that eats the muse.
Some mornings I make thick suggestions about territories, map making and border crossing if my sleepy brain is quick enough. Other mornings I am slick with chance; regurgitate words written by other monsters, that I have already digestedwrittendownintheblank space of whatever fickle notebook has my attention for the hour. On those mornings. Nothing.
This morning, I woke up and the quiet was mixed with the smallest of cat meows. I should write this, I thought. What does it mean to write the morning? It means I should just shut up and take it all in.
What is it? The contour of a spine against skin.