Books

  • ACT TWO

    19. Herculine Barbin

    DIONYSOS appears to DEREK and stays throughout the scene.

    DEREK is exercising with weights.

    DEREK.         (to audience). He thought he wasn't a man without
                       a job.

                       HERCULINE BARBIN enters. She is played by a
                       woman but dressed in the clothes of a Frenchman
                       of the nineteenth century.

                       While she talks she gives DEREK objects from her
                       past which she takes from a small suitcase.

    HERCULINE.   Couldn't I have stayed with her? No one was
                       stopping us, I was the one who - and afterwards
                       it would even have been legal, she still loved me
                       then, I must have lost my mind for a while. Blame
                       her mother, (Gives a book.) refusing to notice,
                       have some apricot tart children, my daughter's
                       dearest friend, a daughter to me, goodbye dear
                       daughter, goodbye. Why didn't I keep a hold of
                       those hands? Blame yourself, kill yourself.

                       Abel Barbin, suicide, they'll find the body of a
                       man in the morning, no one will doubt it. Was
                       I really Herculine Barbin, playing by the sea,
                       starting school at the convent, nobody doubted
                       I was a girl. Hermaphrodite, the doctors were
                       fascinated, how to define this body, does it
                       fascinate you, it doesn't fascinate me, let it die.

                       Where are the girls I loved? They go on not
                       appearing every minute, sometimes it eases, often
                       what I am saying often it eases completely, oh it's
                       not like it was I can have a good - an eyelid, the
                       fall of a skirt, a startling tenderness at the next
                       table, and gone again, all my loves and Sara, Sara
                       and the air, you don't notice your breath till
                       something stops it.

                       I had schools, I had nuns, I had girls I loved even
                       only a little, no, wholly each time but more and -
                       Lea, so old, seventeen, I was twelve, leaning on
                       me in the garden, I took her a pretty crucifix at
                       night, (Gives a rose.) Mother Superior made me
                       cry. Was I really a lady's maid, undressing
                       Clothilde, combing her hair, it was my job, she
                       got married, no one worried about my body, my
                       periods would come in time.

                       Hair on my face and arms, cut it with scissors,
                       worse; I kissed Thecla on the mouth. Clever with
                       books, clumsy at sewing, lightning struck, leapt
                       out of bed naked into the nun's arms, feelings of
                       shame I didn't understand. Sinking in sand (Gives
                       scissors and a comb.) up to our knees, laughing,
                       three in a bed, they took off their skirts and tucked
                       up their petticoats, the water splashed high, I was
                       the only one who stayed on the beach.

                       Where it led, to Sara, I wouldn't let her get dressed
                       without me, stroked her hair, kissed her neck, she
                       put my hand aside and gazed in amazement.
                       Mysterious pains, (Gives crucifix.) she took me
                       into her bed to comfort me, god, Sara was mine,
                       romantic words, Sara is mine, nobody knew, this
                       lasted a long time, the children watched, her hair
                       fell down. In the middle of class she would smile
                       at me.

                       The pains, the doctor, I screamed, he could hardly
                       speak, but still he didn't stop us, her mother didn't,
                       nobody would admit, I did it myself in the
                       vacation, did I have to? The bishop, very kind, his
                       own doctor, yes I should be declared a man, (Gives
                       the lace shawl.) the documents. Sara's grief, have
                       some tart dear daughter, couldn't I have asked to
                       marry her, goodbye dear daughter, how to hold my
                       body as a man.

                       Soon less jeering, job in the railroad, long time
                       with no job, sit in the cafés and see who loves
                       who, at least I'm not a man like the men I see.
                       (Gives the petticoat.) Maybe waiter's assistant on
                       ship to America, what to do, everyone thought it
                       must be something good to take me so far away.

                       Into the unknown, like now, breathing in fumes,
                       soon dead, how to get back, all the girls' bodies,
                       Sara's body, my girl's body, all lost, couldn't you
                       have stayed?

                       DEREK holds all the objects and has dressed
                       himself in the shawl and petticoat. He sits in the
                       chair and becomes HERCULINE,

                       She stands beside him and takes the objects from
                       him and packs them into her suitcase.

    DEREK.         Couldn't I have stayed with her? No one was
                       stopping us, I was the one who - and afterwards
                       it would even have been legal, she still loved me
                       then, I must have lost my mind for a while. Blame
                       her mother, refusing to notice, have some apricot
                       tart children, my daughter's dearest friend, a
                       daughter to me, goodbye dear daughter, goodbye.
                       Why didn't I keep a hold of those hands? Blame
                       yourself, kill yourself.

                       Abel Barbin, suicide, they'll find the body of a
                       man in the morning, no one will doubt it. Was
                       I really Herculine Barbin, playing by the sea,
                       starting school at the convent, nobody doubted
                       I was a girl. Hermaphrodite, the doctors were
                       fascinated, how to define this body, does it
                       fascinate you, it doesn't fascinate me, let it die.

    HERCULINE.   What's the matter? Be happy. You know I love
                       you.

    DEREK.         Where are the girls I loved? They go on not
                       appearing every minute, sometimes it eases, often
                       what I am saying often it eases completely, oh it's
                       not like it was I can have a good - an eyelid, the
                       fall of a

    HERCULINE.   Lea, I love you.

    DEREK.         skirt, a startling tenderness at the next table, and
                       gone again, (Takes away the rose.) all my loves
                       and Sara, Sara and the air, you don't notice your
                       breath till something stops it.

                       I had schools, I had nuns, I had girls I loved even
                       only a little, no, wholly each time but more and -
                       Lea, so old, seventeen, I was twelve, leaning on
                       me in the garden, I took her a pretty crucifix at
                       night, Mother Superior made me cry. Was I really
                       a lady's maid, undressing Clothilde, combing her
                       hair, it was my job, she got married, no one
                       worried about my body, my periods would come
                       in time.

    HERCULINE.   May you be happy later, poor child.

    DEREK.         Hair on my face and arms, cut it with scissors,
                       worse; (Takes the book.)

    HERCULINE.   I'm sorry to hurt you, once more, nearly over.

    DEREK.         I kissed Thecla on the mouth. Clever with books,
                       clumsy at sewing, lightning struck, leapt out of
                       bed naked into the nun's arms, feelings of shame
                       I didn't understand. Sinking in sand up to our
                       knees, (Takes the scissors and comb.)

    HERCULINE.   Modesty, morality and the respect you owe a
                       religious house.

    DEREK.         laughing, three in a bed, they took off their skirts
                       and tucked up their petticoats, the water splashed
                       high, I was the only one who stayed on the beach.
                       Where it led, to Sara,

    HERCULINE.   Herculine! come in the water.

    DEREK.         I wouldn't let her get dressed without me, stroked
                       her hair, kissed her neck, she put my hand aside
                       and gazed in amazement. Mysterious pains, she
                       took me into her bed to comfort me, god, Sara was
                       mine, romantic words, Sara is mine, (Takes the
                       crucifix.) nobody knew, this lasted a long time, the
                       children watched, her hair fell down. In the middle
                       of class she would smile at me.

    HERCULINE.   I've made you an apricot tart.

    DEREK.         The pains, the doctor, I screamed, he could hardly
                       speak, but still he didn't stop us, her mother didn't,
                       nobody would admit, I did it myself in the
                       vacation, did I have to? The bishop, very kind, his
                       own doctor, yes I should be declared a man,the
                       documents. Sara's grief, have some tart dear
                       daughter, couldn't I have asked to marry her,
                       goodbye dear daughter, (Takes the lace shawl.)

    HERCULINE.   Goodbye, dear daughter.

    DEREK.         how to hold my body as a man.

                       Soon less jeering, job in the railroad, long time
                       with no job, sit in the cafés and see who loves
                       who, at least I'm not a man like the men I see.
                       Maybe waiter's assistant on ship to America, what
                       to do, everyone thought it must be something good
                       to take me so far away.

                       Into the unknown, like now, breathing in fumes,
                       soon dead, how to get back, all the girls' bodies,
                       (Takes the petticoat.) Sara's body, my girl's body,
                       all lost,

                       HERCULINE starts to go.

    DEREK.         couldn't you have stayed?

                       HERCULINE turns back and kisses him on the
                       neck.


    When I saw this, I couldn't help but to save it. I had planned on posting it, but you beat me to it, Lizzie.

    It's so...fitting, in what it accomplishes. The feelings it hits nail Catcher In the Rye perfectly.

    Because, the thing was, we should never have wanted to be like Holden.

    We were Holden.

    The book has no answers. Have you ever read one of Salinger's short stories? There's no happy ending.

    It's us - all the angst from being emotionally unstable, in a world we want so badly to be perfect yet can never seem to be that way, yearning for a reality that is not our own. And no one having a shitting clue about those thoughts that go through our head.

    We sit there wishing for that emotional break down, we want them dearly. Because, that's all we've really got to feeling alive. Everything just feels real at that point. And maybe's its those few moments when we just know what we're feeling and what we want (whether a full-blown breakdown or just a daily emotion) - that's all we need.

    I don't think anyone wants to stay at that place (nor do I necessarily think that's where we're condemned). But we never wanted to be Holden. He just spoke for us so eloquently.

  • Why is it I have to be so patient and accepting (and sound like a conceited ass in that sentence)? I mean, I really do have enough to deal with. No, forgive me, I can't fill out every request for help. I wish I could, believe me. If I could just solve problems for the rest of my life (and be capable of it), I would. I'd quite enjoy it. But I really I can't. And here I am, listening to the problems and trying to offer support. Tad bit hypicritical Jon, wouldn't you say?

    Honestly, I'm not that eye-catching. And I can't even solve my own problems. I'm a false hope if you believe in me.

    I should be finishing my paper. I still have time. But I wasted the day. I'm tired.

    You know, I would really like to rant about appearance right now - I know, I know, you guys have heard it all before. But when I hear comments for Miley Sirus, listing the reason as to why they like because she's cute - pardon??? "Oh, I like Lily better because she's prettier than Miley." Well, would it be so surprising that this commenter winds up with a eating disorder someday? I shouldn't say that - that's so assuming, it's pitiful. But honestly? Is that how you live you life? Oh, he/she's not attractive, so I won't give him/her the time of day?

    You know what - I'd love to subject each person to being an outcast when they're younger. Get picked on, feel insecure about yourself, never know if someone is telling you a straight answer or not - go through that shit and try to degrade another person after that.

    Honestly, the things we pick each other over - it's so utterly petty. And disgusting.

    Further, that whole, believe in God or you don't go to Heaven crap, no matter what you've done on Earth - I don't know much (I'm willing to contend very little, in all aspects of life), but if that's the basic measure of a man, we're in serious shit.

    In a world that can be as utterly cruel as it wants, without humanity's intervention - people's acts of kindness are all we've got. You remember that, damn it - the only difference between peace and Hell on Earth is you. So, thanks for feeding me when I had no food, when you clothed me, when you gave me shelter - oh, and enjoy Hell, because you weren't a Christian.

    Fuck you, you pretentious pigs. Yes, I'm aware I've ceased to even begin to construct a wholly logically based argument anymore, and I've also forsaken speaking politely. But I've seen more than enough of Hell. And I'm sick of bickering with the ignorant.


    Imagine if you could be so enraptured in someone without having to gaze at the shape of their body, but just enthralled by who they are, the layered facets of their personality. Oh, I can't articulate it.

    But you'd never get bored of them and they'd never cease to amaze.

    EDIT Dec. 7th, 2008 7:21 PM: I think I got it today, while watching Colors of the Wind on YouTube, no doubt. A surprising amount of commenters were talking about the Wiccan religion, due to the striking similarity of its tenements and those in the video (belief in everything having a spirit or life and being important - assuming I've interpreted them correctly). And for one commenter ("I want to be Wiccan"), I was tempted to comment as a joke, "Don't say that - they'll be accusing Disney of being anti-Christian soon." Of course, I wasn't serious (though, considering Harry Potter and Twilight, who's to say). I was glad to see her exercising her opinion and making her own choices. Anyone who knows me knows I differ in belief, but (of course and always) to each their own. And then I realized my actual problem. As I'm sure you've all listened to the song, it's simply about acceptance and caring for each other. And I love that.

    If I'm to go to Hell for thinking that those welcoming gates aren't big enough for so big of hearts - well, then fine. No one who knows me can say I don't love God, but I can't love humanity any less.

    I owe my life to a questioning atheist and a deist. I expect to see their faces come Judgement Day.

  • It got dark by 5 today. Winter is coming. Already November. There's a special day in that month...right?

    I have to say, first (and probably last) time I've heard Twilight and Interview With the Vampire brought up in Sunday Mass. I have to wonder sometimes if I'm a Christian just because I've never known a better group of people to make the biggest deal about nothing; it's like a hotbed for controversy (and I just can't stay away...).

    I finished my paper this morning, which I really enjoyed writing. I may post it here. If not, you can of course ask to see it, if it so interests you. The topic is quite intriguing, in my opinion. Let's hope the grade is just as much....

    I really like my bosses. Tad random, but I don't think everyone can say that. They're really cool, in a totally ironic sense. And quite friendly (in a non-child-molesting sense).

    Need to write again soon. But I'll get to that eventually. Putting off Chem. but I have time tomorrow. I just need sleep tonight, so I don't sleep through class again like last week.

    I just rediscovered American McGee's Alice. I actually remember seeing it in some computer store (shut up, whatever quip you may have) with my dad when I was younger. At the time, I thought it was twisting the Alice In Wonderland story and didn't like it. Now, I so want it. Haven't heard of it? Watch the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG_-3T1Tljw. Looks so good.

    I have some ideas for verses I want to try out when I have the time. It always takes forever for me to be ready to do a verse, yet once I start writing, it just seems to come forth. Then again, most of the stuff I've written in the past I'm tearing apart, tossing away some, using the rest. I've noticed how much I've grown as lyricist over the past year - bad side? You realize how much you need to improve your future writing and how poor your past stuff was. But eh. Can only go up.

    Yes, at this point you must be worrying at me. Several positive entries in a row? Jon, are you sick? I'd hate to invoke the calm before the storm image (largely because it doesn't make sense; before every catastrophe there doesn't have to be a calm; how can you make so general an assumption as that?), but who knows? Every up has it's down. I suppose I've just become used to. Heh, oh, yes, this is life; you know you're out there when a sarcastic and cynical statement like that makes you laugh and cheer up (that was a joke, despite the truth in it; c'mon, laugh...).

  • I suppose this is a long-delayed response to another entry, in a way. They're a frequent reader (heh, of my, like, three). I've been thinking of parenting often, for some odd reason. Various things in relation to it, but part of it was what we, as parents, will have to tell our children or may pass to our children. I think every parent fears that, to an extent. And all I can think of is being utterly sure that things will be fine. I've noticed lately I seem to be attracted most to people who have or have had history with depression - think the product won't have it? Have to explain the complex family situation on my side. That one'll be fun. Yet why should it be impossible? Been there, done that (for some, all too literally). Children are all so accepting, so long as you raise them that way. A child doesn't love because they're instructed, but because it's instictual. What do you tell them? That's just it - you simply tell them. The second you start building those walls, you weaken and ruin any kind of relationship; further, for all marks, there are those who still see you perfectly.

    I smile into the rearview mirror instead. Why with such a nice smile are you trying to weep? he asks as we pull up to my building.
    -Don't Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine, pg. 90

    So, another installment of the Optimism versus Realism debate. I'm starting to see how necessary Optimism really is. Realism has had most of the spotlight, really. Yet for all his show, he may come off more as cynisism. This is not the case, though. He can have a cynical nature, always reminding the downside of life. But that's because he sees all sides. He sees what is and states it. It is what it is; it is realistic. I saw somewhere that a cynic, when he/she smells flowers, asks where the funeral is. The Realist simply points out that there could be a funeral. And the Optimist hopes it's two loved ones (not dead, of course). Yet what happens when Optimism is gone? Realism has nothing to fight against. Granted, Realism is the one that sets the stakes, in reality - he's the one that looks and life and decides what is realistic or not. And, in turn, Optimism looks at what Realism has discovered and says where things could look up and be good. But, for cinematic purposes, see it as Optimism disappearing and Realism finding nothing happy to acknowledge. Everything becomes gloom, then. I need that optimism, those things to look forward to and to strive for. I need to believe there are answers, I suppose. Realism can state; "This is real! This is what is!" But optimism points to the solutions, that things can get better. Maybe I'm just stuck in that Optimism vs. Realism mindset and that things are what they are, simply, is not an applicable idea for me. But I suppose that would then assume that I am not happy with things as they are. To which I wonder why. To which, again, I have no answer. I don't know and that's the most obnoxious part. To not know is to not know how to proceed.

    In my dream I apologize to everyone I meet. Instead of introducing myself, I apologize for not knowing why I am alive. I am sorry. I am sorry. I apologize. In real life, oddly enough, when I am fully awake and out and about, if I catch someone's eye, I quickly look away. Perhaps this too is a form of apology. Perhaps this is the form apologies take in real life. In real life the looking away is the apology, despite the fact that when I look away I almost feel guilty; I do not feel as if I have apologized. Instead I feel as if I have created a reason to apologize, I feel the guilt of having ignored that thing - the encounter. I could have nodded, I could have have smiled without showing my teeth. In some small way I could have wordlessly said, I see you seeing me and I apologize for not knowing why I am alive. I am sorry. I am sorry. I apologize. Afterwards, after I have looked away, I never feel as if I can say, Look, look at me again so that I can see you, so that I can acknowledge that I have seen you, so that I can see you and apologize.
    -Don't Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine, pg. 98

    I almost want to take a page from your book, Lizzie, and write out all my secrets, for those that I have. But therein lies the problem; I'm not sure I'd know them. I have this nagging feeling in the back of my head that any true ones I do have, I have very good reason for them remaining secrets. Maybe I wouldn't even recognize. What a way to end an entry. A random thought unrelated to the topic (or linked topics) at hand. Oh well.

  • Is any one else irritated by how they display love in the media? Probably. Do I really need to elaborate? Damn, there goes my rant.

    So, in English, we're reading an incredibly depressing book that focuses a lot on death and, I believe, depression. So, the beginning parts, the girl mentions her interest in death from a young age. Throughout what we've read so far, everyone else seems to find it playful and poking fun - funny. I totally didn't see that. There is some dark humor, but I read it more as sarcasm. It didn't seem playful; it seemed resigned and observatory.

    In one portion, she sees the number 1-800-SUICIDE flash across the T. V. screen and, for whatever reason, calls it.

    Do you feel like killing yourself? the man on the other end of the receiver asks. You tell him, I feel like I'm already dead. When he makes no response you add, I am in death's position. He finally says, Don't believe what you are thinking and feeling. Then he asks, Where do you live?

    They read that portion and think she's exploring death, then gets stuck in a situation by calling the number so doesn't know how to respond. This is funny. I see a society that has no clue how to deal with the depressed. There is humor to this piece, but it is dark - the irony. Is it just me? Am I reading it wrong?

    The entry is not meant to depress but marvel at how my interpretation of this book can be so far from what they see. I read this and the voice is tired, too tired for even misery. Not because of some self-reflection or anything like that but because that is the only logical viewpoint I can see this narrator possessing, considering what she's going through.

    As I watch my mother's mouth move, I ask myself: Am I often troubled by constipation? Have I ever vomited love or coughed up blame? Is anything wrong with my mind?

    Next to the paragraph in the book something wrote confusing. Is it really that much so?

  • Well, turns out there is LOLbama, if you hadn't heard. And while LOLcats constant destruction of English grammar and spelling slowly kills me everytime I guiltily enjoy one of their works and while LOLbama, in some cases, affronts all that is politically correct and what I believe in at times...well, Hell, you guys know me well enough to know there is a large distinction between what I truly think and then what I'm willing to say for a joke (which usually can be just about anything...). So, because I know it ought to get one laugh at least...

    (woah, I think they took out the double space for xanga...)







    That is just amazing on so many levels.



    I voice the creator of LOLbama's opinion, the McCain is old jokes are utterly stupid (since when is that qualification a person shouldn't be president??) but this is too perfect for words.


    The caption of the site was "The victory sex was probably so goddamn intense". Yes. Just yes all over.



    So wrong, but the irony is too beautiful.



    And the nerd in me alights for joy. Oh, I so have to show Bryan this one.

    I wish there were more Palin/McCain ones, but it is LOLbama. Oh well, the few there were are quite priceless.

    In other hightlights of today, I finally got my hands on a full version of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, along with Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers and Straight Outta Compton. The N. W. A. joint was as suprising as gangsta rap can be, but it is a milestone in rap and there are some decent ideas kicked around. Besides, no one else was touching really on the crime and problems of the urban areas, so I thank them for that. I have yet to listen to Wu-Tang but it is with much anticipation.

    Talked to my cousin today, which was loads of fun, as usual. Finally had found someone to talk over The Stranger with (they take away the double space (which is standard for online typing anyway) yet I can't use ctrl-i to italisize. Okay, that's Firefox's fault, but still annoys me). Didn't think I'd get that chance with anyone for at least a long while, so that was good. Other than that? Busy busy busy. Work Sat. and Sun. Two papers to do. Entry Screwdance on Sat. (oh dear...). Should be an...interesting weekend.

    Now, back to that paper I was "writing"...