Bought from: Amazon and Forbidden Planet NYC.
I've long been thinking about the value of autobiographical texts, primarily as something to do and secondarily as something to read, especially when it's along the vein of diary-like autobiographical texts, especially with autobiographical diary texts written by young women being read by me, a virile young man mostly living alone in a biggish house. What is the value of baring your emotions in front of everyone in a supposedly raw, unfiltered manner and have it be called "art?" What is the value of reading such public and gilt displays of emotion? Are we all rubberneckers at heart in the same way that we are all exhibitionists by heart? Or am I just lonely and creepy?
I ask as my primary reason for enjoying Gabrielle Bell's THE VOYEURS is the same reason why I enjoy Suicide Girls: it's an occasion to be intimate with an attractive, creative, smart, emotional young woman with the only commitment being the payment of the standard retail price, and yes, it really sounds prostitutional as the dynamic really is prostitutional with autobiographical diary texts and its readers - regardless of gender - more prostitutional than masturbatory, as the common criticism to autobiographical diary texts go, as you don't just watch someone performing intimate acts: you pay for the opportunity to watch someone perform intimate acts, and with dynamics of reading (one person getting into the mind of another, one seeing through another's eyes), the intimacy is heightened, nearly just as good as actual kissing and screwing, some would say it's a closer, better intimacy than sex.
And make no mistake, it's real intimacy on the page: details of itineraries of travels with friends, of sleeping patterns, of delicate love lives waxing and waning before your very eyes - there are moments when I caught myself comparing my manly qualities against Bell's boyfriends in the book (Michel Gondry and Ron Rege, Jr, (and for what it's worth, I'm more a Ron man myself)). I'm a writer, an artist, a musician, I love books, I have a regular job, I facilitate workshops every once in a while, I write criticism every once in a while, I believe I'm fairly intelligent (more intelligent than most, in my humblest opinion), my first book won an award a few years back, I love comics, I love cats, I have a more than average-sized penis for a third world Asian man ... aren't I just as good a catch as Ron and Michel?
And then I snap back into place, climb out of the couch, scratch my butt, stretch my back, feed the cat, start my day, still alone, alone again.
I've long been thinking about the value of autobiographical texts, primarily as something to do and secondarily as something to read, especially when it's along the vein of diary-like autobiographical texts, especially with autobiographical diary texts written by young women being read by me, a virile young man mostly living alone in a biggish house. What is the value of baring your emotions in front of everyone in a supposedly raw, unfiltered manner and have it be called "art?" What is the value of reading such public and gilt displays of emotion? Are we all rubberneckers at heart in the same way that we are all exhibitionists by heart? Or am I just lonely and creepy?
I ask as my primary reason for enjoying Gabrielle Bell's THE VOYEURS is the same reason why I enjoy Suicide Girls: it's an occasion to be intimate with an attractive, creative, smart, emotional young woman with the only commitment being the payment of the standard retail price, and yes, it really sounds prostitutional as the dynamic really is prostitutional with autobiographical diary texts and its readers - regardless of gender - more prostitutional than masturbatory, as the common criticism to autobiographical diary texts go, as you don't just watch someone performing intimate acts: you pay for the opportunity to watch someone perform intimate acts, and with dynamics of reading (one person getting into the mind of another, one seeing through another's eyes), the intimacy is heightened, nearly just as good as actual kissing and screwing, some would say it's a closer, better intimacy than sex.
And make no mistake, it's real intimacy on the page: details of itineraries of travels with friends, of sleeping patterns, of delicate love lives waxing and waning before your very eyes - there are moments when I caught myself comparing my manly qualities against Bell's boyfriends in the book (Michel Gondry and Ron Rege, Jr, (and for what it's worth, I'm more a Ron man myself)). I'm a writer, an artist, a musician, I love books, I have a regular job, I facilitate workshops every once in a while, I write criticism every once in a while, I believe I'm fairly intelligent (more intelligent than most, in my humblest opinion), my first book won an award a few years back, I love comics, I love cats, I have a more than average-sized penis for a third world Asian man ... aren't I just as good a catch as Ron and Michel?
And then I snap back into place, climb out of the couch, scratch my butt, stretch my back, feed the cat, start my day, still alone, alone again.
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