Most Fashionable Reader! Zelda has dragged herself out of The Treacherous Abyss and has pulled herself to her feet to, well, face her demons head-on by writing about some form of some sort of journey into hell. Zelda is not one to rub salt in her wounds, Dear Reader, but she does have a fondness for rubbing alcohol.
James Joyce! Zelda has missed you so! Also Ulysses! Zelda cannot wait to go farther with you! Maybe even third base! And Vivienne! Zelda has missed you more! Zelda has missed you most!
The video below is something that has made Zelda feel better lately. It is a sweet little song — Zelda had forgotten about it until she heard it whilst getting her hair styled last week. Zelda feels the lyrics would have been a tad more cohesive, however, had Anna Nalick written it when she was a little older. Ah, well.
“My God! It’s so beautiful when the boy! Smiles!”
The writing on the wall
Fade past the unglazed mug, the shampoo commercial, the Still Life with Waterfall. Fingers blunt with cold. The sound of an old film. Aspirin tablets, chicken salad sandwiches. Extension cords round the room like lions. The smell of the weak, the descent of their last end –
Preface to the preface: after penning (or, well, typing, really) particularly volatile entries, Vivienne and Zelda had a phone conversation which sounded something like this:
Vivienne: HELLS YEAH!Zelda: I’M COMING ALLLLLLIIIIIIIIVVVVVVEEEE!Vivienne: OUR TIME IS NOOOOOOOWWWWW!
This exchange was followed by an open acknowledgment of and further commitment to the fact that, this time, the Hyacinth Girls are going Balls Out. Balls to the Wall. This, reader, is our commitment to you: we will take no prisoners. We will give no mercy. We will go All Out, Balls Out, All The Time.
And so it begins …
Vivienne has recently publicly announced her Declaration to Quit two things which she now sees as Very Bad Habits: smoking cigarettes and dating. When Vivienne has told people of her Declaration to Quit Smoking, she has received an Overwhelmingly, Undividedly Positive Response. Good for you! Fabulous! I’m so proud! The Declaration to Quit Smoking was met with complete praise and admiration.
However.
When Vivienne has told people of her Declaration to Quit Dating, the response has been muted and/or mixed. While some have been supportive, most have given her a response which one can only translate as I am now going to watch you carefully to make sure you do not climb your stairs and jump out of your second story window. Some have urged her, No, no, Vivienne! Don’t give up! The Man of Your Dreams is just around the corner! Some have said, with a twinkle in their eye and their voice, Oh, you know what’s going to happen now! You’re going to meet The One. I just know it. That’s what happens when you give up. Some have informed her that it isn’t healthy to quit dating. It isn’t healthy to give up.
Really.
Vivienne would like to argue against this. Vivienne would like to argue that both of her Declaration to Quit are, in fact, good for her health.
Let’s take the first Declaration. Smoking is bad for you. All right. We’ve agreed. Smoking is Very Much Not Good for you. It fucks up your lungs and your throat and your nose and one day, if you keep smoking, they’re going to cut out your tongue and your cheeks and you’ll just be a hole with a box that you hold to a hole in your throat to speak. It Is. Not. Good. For. You. Fine. We’ve agreed. That was easy. But when Vivienne says she has made a Declaration to Quit Dating because it is almost if not just as if not MORE damaging than smoking, then we have a problem. Then we have a protest. Oh-HO, then we hear. Vivienne has gone to far.
Vivienne is not going to give you examples of her Dating Nightmares. She is not going to give you examples of physical and psychological abuse, though she could give you plenty. She could give you enough to send you screeching and screaming into the corner. She could give you enough for a lifetime of sleepless nights. But she is not. Instead, she is going to do this.
Consider this: the one relationship all who know Vivienne termed as “healthy.” The one relationship which was a “success.” He was such a good guy! He was The Real Thing! He and Vivienne had long and healthy and open and honest talks! They got along so well! It was The Real Thing! Her therapist — even her therapist – agreed! Vivienne was taking Progress Road straight down the way to Healthy Relationship Lane, where the streets are paved with Bob’s Peppermints and everyone rides My Little Ponies to work!
Consider this: what went on in this one relationship that could be considered a “healthy” “success.” Here, Vivienne began a relationship (this was her first mistake) with a man (this was her second mistake) who worked in the same field she was in (this was her third and perhaps most fatal mistake). And, look, Vivienne isn’t going to give specifics here, as her desire for anonymity overshadows her desire to prove a point, but Vivienne will say that she Is Not Bad at what she does. Vivienne will even go so far as to say that she is Moderately Accomplished at what she does. She does Not Suck at it. But the man with which she was in this “healthy” “successful” relationship — let’s call him A. Hat — the man with which she was in this “healthy” “successful” relationship constantly, nearly daily, made remarks which implied that she did, in some way, suck at this enterprise in which they were both involved. For instance: when Vivienne would mention an Idea in Their Field that Ass H. had never heard of (something which should have happened quite often, as A. Hat really apparently had never evolved his thinking about Their Field past the 1950′s, but Vivienne held back), yes she did, good little girl that Vivienne is!), Ass H. would say look at you, telling me something new! Or, if Vivienne mentioned that she had spent the day working on Things in Their Field, A. Hat would say, look at you, working on your little work! Or, if Vivienne introduced Ass H. to some Literature in Their Field he had never encountered, A. Hat would remark, aw, look at you, reading!
When Vivienne heard this, did she vomit? Did she rip her phone out of its socket and throw it through a plate glass window? Did she rip Ass Hat off his couch and throw him through a plate glass window? No. No, though any of those would have been proper responses, she did not. She smiled. She blushed. She went so far as to giggle. She had to, didn’t she? A. Hat was The Real Thing! What they had was The Real Thing! This was the relationship that even her therapist termed as a “healthy” “success”! This was progress! This was The Relationship as The Relationship was meant to be!
Smoking is dangerous. Yes. Smoking can shorten your lifespan.
But I ask you this: is it worse to live a short life, being exactly and fully who you truly and really ARE, or to live a long life being diminished and put down and belittled and forcing yourself to diminish and put down and belittle yourself, to convince yourself that you are less than you are, just so that you can do what everyone says you should do — i.e., be in a Relationship, look for The One, be married and babied and white fenced and aproned and all?
Underworld: Bedsheets. Streetlamp. Comb.
You in the moment you know you’ll remember it: flipped backup and him working over you, grunt grunt and neversore though you sore, neversore he though you sore though you not sore because you cannot say sore, because you cannot say, flipped backup and him working over you, grunt grunt and neversore and hand firm and flat against flat back of the skull, flipped backup and him working over you, grunt grunt neversore neversore because you cannot say sore because you cannot say, flipped backup and him grunt and you mouth open, flipped backup mouthopen you cannot say sore and sore and flipped open you cannot mouth pillowed no air you cannot flipped backup you in the moment of grunt you’ll remember sore you cannot say you cannot you sore.
Zelda was fully prepared to post this entry last night, Dearest Reader, but, instead, she has been looping the video of Tori Amos performing “Professional Widow” that Our Most Fashionable Vivienne of Fashion posted in her most recent entry for seven hours straight. And, in honor of our Dearest Most Fashionable Vivienne, Zelda shall quote from Tori Amos regarding aforementioned song. Zelda shall show you these quotes, Reader, because they make sense. And, as Tori Amos fans know but do not like to admit, most of what comes out of Tori Amos’s mouth does not make much sense, so these quotes are truly a rarity, because they make perfect freaking sense. And, in actuality, they make the most sense of anything that Zelda has read this entire year, and they have caused Zelda to become obsessed with Tori Amos again, just like she was when she was an undergraduate. So these are some of the Fashionable Things Tori Amos has to say about “Professional Widow”:
“I am very interested in what is strong and what is weak in a person. Interested in my vision of self — how people see me instead of how I see myself. I’ll pull out each part of this being that is judged harshly, and some of these parts are extreme. For instance, ‘Professional Widow’ is an extreme part. It can get hard because I want to be king. All of us women want to be king but we have to be queens. You know, it’s like Lady Macbeth or something.” (from The Dent)
“That’s my Lady Macbeth, the side of me that wanted power. But power in a man’s world. I wanted to be Indiana Jones, not the girlfriend. But as I began to do that I started to alienate many men. ‘Widow’ is my hunger for the energy I felt some of the men in my life possessed: the ability to be king. I wasn’t content just being a muse. I was the creative force. I was in relationships with different men where if they could honour that, they couldn’t honour the woman, and if they could honour the woman, they couldn’t honour the creative force.” (from Pop Idol)
And, my personal favorite:
“Professional Widow is the Lady Macbeth archetype. There are many ways to play Lady Macbeth. It can be done in a Jackie O suit.” (from YesSaid)
Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand resounding shouts for playing Lady Freaking Macbeth in a Jackie Freaking O suit! Yes! Yes! Yes!
PROPORTION, BOY! IT’S GOTTA BE BIG, I SAID. YOU BETTER BE BIG, BOY!
James Joyce is making Zelda write these things, Dear Reader. It’s all his fault. And with that statement, Zelda moves a smidgen closer to The Ulysses Experiment. . .
But first! Zelda must make a public declaration! To make this public declaration publicly, however, Zelda must first make a rather embarrassing and shameful admission. Zelda must say publicly that she was laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she is now unemployed. Zelda must say publicly that she has had no luck in finding employment since being laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she has absolutely no money. Zelda must say publicly that cheese has now become an unaffordable luxury in her sad little Household of One.
Now, Zelda can make her public declaration. So here it is:
But seriously, Reader. Zelda doesn’t want to hear it. This is rather difficult for Zelda, for even Zelda’s mother admits that Zelda is a nurturer (among many other things). Stop laughing, Reader — it’s true, Zelda swears.
No transition.
Zelda is mentioning a funeral, methods of death, a raincoat, and a hat in exercise below. And also: for those of you who feel the need to call Zelda and freak out about the freaking economy (Zelda is mostly — but not completely — referring to a non-parental member of her immediate family here, one who will never read her HyacinthGirls.com musings), Zelda has provided an educational Electric Company clip for you below.
Everybody’s in a little pain every once and a while. You’re not the only one. So what do you really gain? It makes no sense to complain!
Cadavers suspended from cloud formations. Notyetwinter means unlined raincoats. The rain like sleet on the unemployment line stretching past the parking lot that cigarettesmoking procession playing a scratched record three tombstones down from your loved one. A man on his cellphone touching his tophat. I am forgetting your tears. To feel comfortable about the dead, break them into pieces. Send my cinders home to Mother.
Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader: Zelda has a problem. Now, Zelda realizes that she is hardly back in the saddle when it comes to the dating scene, since Roxette was still releasing new music when she last dated, but she felt that certain statements would still ring true within the dating world. Such as: if two people have massive quantities of sex over an extended period of time, then they will be forced to come up for air eventually and, during aforementioned air gathering, they would, perhaps, get a bite or two to eat or watch a movie. Such as: if two people go to restaurants and the cinema together, if two people spend time out in public together and enjoy aforementioned time, then they will eventually end up enjoying the other’s, ah, company in the bedroom. These two statements have not rung true for Zelda, Reader. Zelda illustrates this with the following illustration:
And, like Dearest, Dearest Vivienne, I can offer you no transition to this imaginary letter written to an imaginary person from an imaginary person, which was inspired by Martha’s letter to Leopold Bloom a/k/a Henry Flower Esq. I can offer you only the video below — which is Liz Phair performing the fabulous “Flower” live. Unlike most of her live performances, however, this one is actually quite good. There’s even an extra verse at the end!
Also, Reader: Zelda would like to apologize for the nastiness (hers as well as Liz Phair’s) in the letter below but would also like to blame it on James Joyce.
the masochist says hit me and the sadist says no
naughty you no massaging your silly thinskin your babyfine headhair your naughtynaughty slapsore cock pam grier from a cheap frame watching us fuck and my fingers splaying and pressing your headboard (moving to livingroom) pam grier from a cheap frame watching us fuck and your cock being fucked on the sofa you like to be fucked your cock to be smacked and pulled I have noticed your eyes railroading me with want (with your hair I am making saltwater taffy) I wait for the want to escape your lips for naughtyyou to say –
Look, Fair Readers. You have stuck with me for quite a bit. Through thick and thin, as it were. And, as it is, I will make this admission:
Vivienne’s life is a disaster.
I mean, a Courtney-Love-at-five-a.m. disaster. A late-Judy-Garland-attempting-to-film-Valley-of-the-Dolls disaster. A Liza-Minelli-at-any-point disaster. Together? Vivienne does not have a whit of it. And so, Vivienne is not quite sure why she has taken this, this very moment, this Judy-Garland-in-tragic-sunglasses moment, to quit smoking.
Careful Readers may be saying to themselves: Quit smoking? I thought Vivienne already quit smoking. I thought that happened years ago. Yes, Careful Readers, you are correct. Vivienne did quit smoking, and it did happen years ago. But Vivienne took up smoking again. And here Vivienne makes a sad admission: Vivienne’s journey back down Nicotine Way started because of a man (actually, in an attempt to talk to a man in an unguarded smokehazed moment, during which said man confessed his homosexual tendencies, which Vivienne ignored to date him anyway) and continued because of a man (a man who, in Ms. Big Edie Bouvier-Beales’ words, was so warm on the telephone but so cold in person) (whose behavior also hinted at homosexual tendencies, which Vivienne ignored to semi-date him anyway, which brings to mind a pattern …). And so, in order to liberate herself of Said Men, Vivienne is going to quit smoking.
Which leads Vivienne to think of her other additions: besides her addiction to dating and semi-dating men with homosexual tendencies, there is her addition to Diet Coke. Smoking is bad. Yes. This, Vivienne can clearly see. Diet Coke? Nothing can convince her. Her doctor tells her to stop drinking Diet Coke because it is eating her bones. Vivienne is so exhausted by this news that she can do nothing but drink a Diet Coke. Vivienne watches footage of an egg dropped in Diet Coke. Vivienne watches as its shell dissolves. Vivienne thinks, how refreshing would a cold Diet Coke be right now? Vivienne’s teeth fall out because she drinks so much Diet Coke. Vivienne thinks, perhaps I could freeze Diet Coke in a dental mold?
And now, I provide you with no clear transition to tonight’s Ulysses assignment, inspired by Chapter 5, in which Mr. Bloom wanders around, tears up a letter, thinks about sluts, and witnesses an odd version of mass in which the Eucharist seems to come before the Gospel (perhaps this is just his perception, though): an imagine letter from an imaginary person. Who is, hopefully, happily drinking a Diet Coke, smoking a Camel, and just acting on his homosexual tendencies fergod’ssake like he should’ve done instead of all that damned repression.
Dearest Y.,
As for the fish I am not sure. Perhaps when feeding the tank left open, perhaps flipped themselves outwards. Somewhere I read of their teeth though not sure this is a true thing. Have you left the flowers where they were or are they elsewhere aplantered? Last night I could swear bright as day. The moon or something. Six cents a sheet, the copies are, and the library overrun with moths. Ate the verbs out and all of the Rs in the Oxford. Crying shame, hidden in that dress in the corner, with the stains on the glovetips and seed pearls rolling. Perhaps Sunday? Or the hot rolls and the coffee burnt, heating element eternal lit, red eye in the night. Lit his smoke on it and caught the hair on fire, poor guy. Bugger he or should’ve been. Or would’ve wished to. Pour out the last of the glasses and call a night to it, will you? Yes then. Yes.
Circumstances have arisen that have led to an odd necessity, this odd necessity being that Vivienne must look through Photographs of Her Youth, particularly Photographs of Her Youth as a College Student, in order to find An Entirely Appropriate Photograph of Her Youth as a College Student. I admit that I thought this would be an easy undertaking. Apparently, however, in the years since her graduation from college, Vivienne seems to have Completely and Entirely forgotten what her Life as a Youth as a College Student was like. Vivienne found one photograph. She was wearing a black velvet bra and a man’s suit jacket. This, obviously, was Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found a second, third, fourth, and fifth photograph. In all of these photographs, she was holding a wine glass. Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found a sixth and seventh photograph. She was shotgunning a beer in both. Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found an eighth photograph of her smiling pleasantly in a pleasant pink wool sweater. Vivienne felt hope. Vivienne looked closer. Her roommate’s bong was in the background. Absolutely Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne finally found a ninth photograph of her working hard at her computer. Finally! Appropriateness! But for the “Militant Agnostic: You Don’t Know and I Don’t Know Either” bumper sticker plastered to the wall behind her left shoulder, not to mention the sight of a shirtless man behind her. Absolutely Most Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne now despairs, and thinks An Entirely Appropriate Photograph of Her Youth as a College Student is a non-existant myth.
Which brings us, fashionably, to this evening’s exercise, based on the fourth section of Ulysses, in which Mr. Bloom defecates in the outhouse. In this evening’s exercise, Viv and Zel have agreed to mention something unmentionable. Enjoy.
Wanting I think she wants a man who’s got no time for her because she doesn’t want to have time for a man. Well, maybe she doesn’t want a man. Has that made its way to your thinking? The whole morning a fourcoffee haze, slim white grave in the trashcan and outside the evidence of the well-packed pack all smoked and your thinking what doesn’t kill me now may kill me later, your thinking the smoke can do the job I not brave enough to do. In the meantide convincing theself of living by the cat who without me will have no freshwaterfoodbelledplaythings, she a black prrr in the blacknight. In the meantide not speaking of the notness to the women who heelthump down hallways, coffeesteam and questions your weekend your morning all right?
Forgive the tardiness of this post, my dear friends. Yesterday, the Dread Beast of Exhaustion wrestled me to the ground, and I could not resist. Incidentally, the Dread Beast of Exhaustion led Vivienne to look exactly like Bette Davis in Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte, after evil Cousin Miriam’s dread medicine worked its magic and, after a vision of masked dancers and Dr. Drew (am I the only one who could not help but think of Loveline whilst Dr. Drew was onscreen in said film?) risen from his watery grave, she collapsed upon the stairs. Vivienne is, in fact, surprised that she did not collapse upon her own stairs in her journey bedward, and is grateful that her stairs are carpeted, as she expects that this shall, indeed, occur at some point in the near future. In the meanwhile, Vivienne greatly misses Zelda, who has been engaged in Fashionable Activities of Fashion which are far too Fashionable for Vivienne to even begin to mention when she has only had a cup and a half of coffee. Fare thee well, Fashionable Zelda of Fashion! If our souls are two, they are two so as stiff twin compasses are two! My soul, the fix’d foot, doth not move except to bed after wrestling the Dread Beast of Exhaustion; thy soul far doth roam into the realm of Fashion. But we shall end where we began, in Fashion, accompanied by Diamond Heart Necklaces and the melodious voice of Courtney Love!
And now, Vivienne unwisely begins the unwise portion of this entry, for which she is woefully unqualified and sorely undercaffeinated, but which she will nevertheless unwisely attempt.
Vivienne Perhaps Unwisely Enters into a Discussion of Religious Significances in the First Two Sections of Ulysses
First and foremost: the image of shaving, with which Joyce begins Ulysses. This is, indeed, an image rich with Serious Religious Implications in many religions, the Serious Religious Implications being in the vein of beginning a religious quest. There is, of course, the importance of shaving in Catholicism, with which Joyce was obviously familiar: nuns having their heads shaved during Holy Orders, and monks with their tonsure. Of course, shaving is also of great importance in Buddhism. Take, for instance, Chikamatsu Monzaemon’s joruri plays of the shinju, or “love suicide,” or “double suicide,” variety, particularly The Love Suicides at Amijima and The Love Suicides at Sonezaki. The lovers cut off their hair in order to become monks and nuns at the end of their multi-bridge journey towards death, an act which seems resonant here.
Secondly, Vivienne would like to take some time to further contemplate something which seems to be of great significance in the text: Daedelus’ use of algebra to discover that Hamlet is his own father. Let her break down her thinking:
Dedalus does not use textual implications to discover this fact.
Dedalus must, instead, use algebra, or the language of mathematics, for this discovery.
There is herein the implication that we must use a language other than our own, other than the language systems we’ve set up for daily communication, to discover Great Truths, particularly Great Truths of Religious Import.
This also seems implied by Joyce’s use of Latin phrases from the Mass and from the Requiem Mass, which further implies that we cannot discover Great Truths of Religious Import or, in another sense, communicate with or about God in our own language.
Both Latin and mathematics are languages which are either, in the case of Latin, no longer used to communicate, or which cannot be used in verbal communication.
The implication here seems to be that God is something above and beyond us, not an existing part of the everyday world, which we cannot reach in our daily lives, and which few, if any of us, can understand.
Dedalus uses this Other Language to discover that Hamlet is his own father.
If we consider the Roman Catholic idea of the Trinity, with Christ as the Son and God as the Father and the Holy Ghost, and all being one, one can see that Christ also is His own Father.
If, like Christ, Hamlet is his own Father, in avenging his Father, he is only avenging Himself, the implication perhaps being that any act that we perform on behalf of another is, in a very real way, simply an act we perform for ourselves.
If, like Hamlet, Christ is his own Father, Christ’s appearance on earth can be seen as a form of revenge, avenging the world for forgetting his Father much as Hamlet exacts revenge upon Gertrude and Claudius for forgetting his Father.
Indeed, Christ’s appearance on earth led human beings into roughly 2,000 years of warfare, which continues to this day — what could be greater revenge?
There is also, herein, the implication that if God and Christ are one, and God controls all things, and God sent Christ to die for us, God committed suicide, in a very real sense.
If this is seen as logically true, it can also be logically construed that God killed his presence on earth, meaning that God is no longer a part of our daily lives.
Well hello! Welcome to this Missive of Fashion! Zelda realizes that it has been quite some time since she and the Most Fashionable Vivienne have written. Zelda is writing to you, Most Fashionable Reader, to reveal that she and the Most Fashionable Vivienne apologize for this travesty. Zelda is here to tell you, Most Fashionable Reader, that she and the Most Fashionable Vivienne will soon return to grace the presence of their very own blog. She and Vivienne are also here to tell you, Most Fashionable Reader, that you will not be disappointed when they do. Zelda and Vivienne will return to TheHyacinthGirls.com on the First of October, 2008. At present, they are getting quite comfortable in their alter-alter egos: Vivienne as Bette Davis, and Zelda as Joan Crawford.
Would you, Most Fashionable Reader, like to have a peek at what Vivienne and Zelda will be working on during the month of October? Here it is:
Don’t call it a comeback, Most Fashionable Readers; Vivienne and Zelda have been here for years.
Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader: Zelda has been busy being an Active Invalid of Unfashion these past few days, the climax of this Unfashion occurring late yesterday evening after Zelda and a Benevolent Friend watched The Bucket List [which, by the way, Dear Reader, has been FALSELY BILLED AS A COMEDY! IT IS A FILM OF TRAGEDY AND GREAT SORROW!]. At the end of The Bucket List, Zelda fell dramatically onto her Benevolent Friend’s hardwood floor, curled up into a fetal position, and sobbed, “I am going to dieeeeeeeeeeee alone. I am going to die aloooooooooooooooooooone. Aloooooooooone.”
Zelda’s Benevolent Yet Somewhat Annoying Friend showed no pity for Our Dearest, Most Fashionable Zelda. “You’re not going to die any time soon, Zelda,” he said. “And you’re not going to die alone.”
“Yes I ammmmmmm,” Zelda wailed. “I am going to die alooooooooooooone.”
“Get it together, Zelda,” the Benevolently Annoying Friend said. “You’re not fun to be around when you’re like this.”
“Fun?!” Zelda roared with all the Furious Rage she could, in her pathetic state, muster. “You call this film of tragedy and great sorrow FUN?! ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS WATCH THAT WILL FERRELL COMEDY! THAT ONE ABOUT BASKETBALL! BUT! NO! YOU TALKED ME INTO THE FREAKING BUCKET LIST! HOLY CHRIST I NEED A CIGARETTE!”
So Zelda furiously drove back to her apartment, alone. Whilst driving, she violently smoked cigarette after cigarette, alone. She stomped up her flight of stairs, alone. She brushed her teeth so hard that her gums bled, alone. She furiously plumped her highly fashionable pillow, alone, and Zelda finally drifted off into a Sleep Full of Rage and Fury and Sorrow. Alone.
Sometimes, Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader, only eighties music will suffice. Only eighties music can express the loneliness and the angst one Zelda felt while curled up in a fetal position on a hardwood floor. And this is why, Most Fashionable Reader, Zelda has provided for you the video below, in all its acid washed hair sprayed white sneakered jean jacketed sweetly innocent bubblegum smacking glory. Hearts are good for souvenirs, Dear Reader. Hearts are good for souvenirs.
Oh yeah! The poem!
For this FaOuLiPoWriMoFa [Fashionable OuLiPo Writing Month of Fashion] poem, Zelda has blended the Fashionable OuLiPo methods of curtailing and interference. Zelda’s source text was a section of a quiz found in Delivered from Distraction by Edward M. Hallowell and John J. Ratey.
Self Assessment
Are you concerned that you drink too much when you’re alone?
Do you smoke more cigarettes now that you’re single?
When by yourself, do you resent yourself?
Do you enjoy being alone in basements?
Do you waste vast quantities of time roaming around by yourself?
Do you smile when talking to yourself in hopes that it will be a sufficient contribution?
Since you’ve become single, have you made the mistake of dating?
Has the quality of your sex life declined due to internal emotional conflict?
Is what you’re looking forward to doing a solitary act?
Do you find that you have trouble sustaining attention when you make love to yourself?
Do you have trouble lingering when you make love to yourself?
Do you have recurring dreams in which you’re by yourself?
Do you carry anger and frustration within you?
When alone, do you feel a great deal of shame?
When you’re alone, do you yearn to be so much more?
Vivienne has spent much of her evening dealing with a great deal of UNFASHION (where are you, wise and benevolent spirit of Anne Carson, to save me from the UNFASHION?!). So much UNFASHION that she’s halfway convinced that the entire WORLD OF FASHION has been SUCKED UP INTO NOTHING BY THE NOTHING. So much UNFASHION, in fact, that she and Zelda just had a Most Fashionable Conversation of Rage in which many Fashionable Discoveries were made, which may soon reach the blog, but, in the meantime, Vivienne is so unhinged by the UNFASHION she was forced to face that she cannot even talk about it, for spreading such UNFASHION to the world would be a serious act of UNFASHION. And Vivienne detests UNFASHION. And Vivienne instead loves Fashion. And Vivienne loves you. And so she gives you a Scene of Fashion, from Wigstock 2000:
And so she gives you a Fashionable Pet Shops Boys AbFab Mix of Fashion:
And so she lets you in on one of the Most Fashionable Revelations of The Evening, which is that PATSY IS FABULOUS with this Sponge Osmosity created from AbFab clips. Enjoy, and remember, kids: BE FASHIONABLE AS OTHERS SHALL BE FASHIONABLE UNTO YOU.
Lacroix, darling. Lacroix.
Sweetie Darling The Stairwell
California lovely the roof off lovely
over it the road the road lovely
there used to be here your language
watch you foul you language I am
thin a bee is it where is it find it
we need more don’t leave right well
then a bee a bee is it a small hello
cut it off he’s very nice cut it off I have
to get out of here darling Mummy’s here
sweetheart I’m going to call the filth
the pigs just drink it sweetie no fabulous
no fantastic no I like this one no this
one is the one this one here what is this
sweetie we tried didn’t we we didn’t want is this
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Blog of Fashion
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It's very dramatic.
Posted by zeldafitzgerald 
Habits: smoking cigarettes and dating. When Vivienne has told people of her Declaration to Quit Smoking, she has received an Overwhelmingly, Undividedly Positive Response. Good for you! Fabulous! I’m so proud! The Declaration to Quit Smoking was met with complete praise and admiration.
her, No, no, Vivienne! Don’t give up! The Man of Your Dreams is just around the corner! Some have said, with a twinkle in their eye and their voice, Oh, you know what’s going to happen now! You’re going to meet The One. I just know it. That’s what happens when you give up. Some have informed her that it isn’t healthy to quit dating. It isn’t healthy to give up.
isn’t going to give specifics here, as her desire for anonymity overshadows her desire to prove a point, but Vivienne will say that she Is Not Bad at what she does. Vivienne will even go so far as to say that she is Moderately Accomplished at what she does. She does Not Suck at it. But the man with which she was in this “healthy” “successful” relationship — let’s call him A. Hat — the man with which she was in this “healthy” “successful” relationship constantly, nearly daily, made remarks which implied that she did, in some way, suck at this enterprise in which they were both involved. For instance: when Vivienne would mention an Idea in Their Field that Ass H. had never heard of (something which should have happened quite often, as A. Hat really apparently had never evolved his thinking about Their Field past the 1950′s, but Vivienne held back), yes she did, good little girl that Vivienne is!), Ass H. would say look at you, telling me something new! Or, if Vivienne mentioned that she had spent the day working on Things in Their Field, A. Hat would say, look at you, working on your little work! Or, if Vivienne introduced Ass H. to some Literature in Their Field he had never encountered, A. Hat would remark, aw, look at you, reading!
as The Real Thing! This was the relationship that even her therapist termed as a “healthy” “success”! This was progress! This was The Relationship as The Relationship was meant to be!
Zelda was fully prepared to post this entry last night, Dearest Reader, but, instead, she has been looping the video of Tori Amos performing “Professional Widow” that Our Most Fashionable Vivienne of Fashion posted in her most recent entry for seven hours straight. And, in honor of our Dearest Most Fashionable Vivienne, Zelda shall quote from Tori Amos regarding aforementioned song. Zelda shall show you these quotes, Reader, because they make sense. And, as Tori Amos fans know but do not like to admit, most of what comes out of Tori Amos’s mouth does not make much sense, so these quotes are truly a rarity, because they make perfect freaking sense. And, in actuality, they make the most sense of anything that Zelda has read this entire year, and they have caused Zelda to become obsessed with Tori Amos again, just like she was when she was an undergraduate. So these are some of the Fashionable Things Tori Amos has to say about “Professional Widow”:
“That’s my Lady Macbeth, the side of me that wanted power. But power in a man’s world. I wanted to be Indiana Jones, not the girlfriend. But as I began to do that I started to alienate many men. ‘Widow’ is my hunger for the energy I felt some of the men in my life possessed: the ability to be king. I wasn’t content just being a muse. I was the creative force. I was in relationships with different men where if they could honour that, they couldn’t honour the woman, and if they could honour the woman, they couldn’t honour the creative force.” (from 
But first! Zelda must make a public declaration! To make this public declaration publicly, however, Zelda must first make a rather embarrassing and shameful admission. Zelda must say publicly that she was laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she is now unemployed. Zelda must say publicly that she has had no luck in finding employment since being laid off in August. Zelda must say publicly that she has absolutely no money. Zelda must say publicly that cheese has now become an unaffordable luxury in her sad little Household of One.
But seriously, Reader. Zelda doesn’t want to hear it. This is rather difficult for Zelda, for even Zelda’s mother admits that Zelda is a nurturer (among many other things). Stop laughing, Reader — it’s true, Zelda swears.
Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader: Zelda has a problem. Now, Zelda realizes that she is hardly back in the saddle when it comes to the dating scene, since 
to a man in an unguarded smokehazed moment, during which said man confessed his homosexual tendencies, which Vivienne ignored to date him anyway) and continued because of a man (a man who, in Ms. Big Edie Bouvier-Beales’ words, was so warm on the telephone but so cold in person) (whose behavior also hinted at homosexual tendencies, which Vivienne ignored to semi-date him anyway, which brings to mind a pattern …). And so, in order to liberate herself of Said Men, Vivienne is going to quit smoking.
Completely and Entirely forgotten what her Life as a Youth as a College Student was like. Vivienne found one photograph. She was wearing a black velvet bra and a man’s suit jacket. This, obviously, was Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found a second, third, fourth, and fifth photograph. In all of these photographs, she was holding a wine glass. Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found a sixth and seventh photograph. She was shotgunning a beer in both. Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne found an eighth photograph of her smiling pleasantly in a pleasant pink wool sweater. Vivienne felt hope. Vivienne looked closer. Her roommate’s bong was in the background. Absolutely Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne finally found a ninth photograph of her working hard at her computer. Finally! Appropriateness! But for the “Militant Agnostic: You Don’t Know and I Don’t Know Either” bumper sticker plastered to the wall behind her left shoulder, not to mention the sight of a shirtless man behind her. Absolutely Most Definitely Not Entirely Appropriate. Vivienne now despairs, and thinks An Entirely Appropriate Photograph of Her Youth as a College Student is a non-existant myth.
Fashionable Zelda of Fashion! If our souls are two, they are two so as stiff twin compasses are two! My soul, the fix’d foot, doth not move except to bed after wrestling the Dread Beast of Exhaustion; thy soul far doth roam into the realm of Fashion. But we shall end where we began, in Fashion, accompanied by Diamond Heart Necklaces and the melodious voice of Courtney Love!
Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader:
Dearest, Most Fashionable Reader: Zelda has been busy being an Active Invalid of Unfashion these past few days, the climax of this Unfashion occurring late yesterday evening after Zelda and a Benevolent Friend watched The Bucket List [which, by the way, Dear Reader, has been FALSELY BILLED AS A COMEDY! IT IS A FILM OF TRAGEDY AND GREAT SORROW!]. At the end of The Bucket List, Zelda fell dramatically onto her Benevolent Friend’s hardwood floor, curled up into a fetal position, and sobbed, “I am going to dieeeeeeeeeeee alone. I am going to die aloooooooooooooooooooone. Aloooooooooone.”
So Zelda furiously drove back to her apartment, alone. Whilst driving, she violently smoked cigarette after cigarette, alone. She stomped up her flight of stairs, alone. She brushed her teeth so hard that her gums bled, alone. She furiously plumped her highly fashionable pillow, alone, and Zelda finally drifted off into a Sleep Full of Rage and Fury and Sorrow. Alone.
Vivienne has spent much of her evening dealing with a great deal of UNFASHION (where are you, wise and benevolent spirit of Anne Carson, to save me from the UNFASHION?!). So much UNFASHION that she’s halfway convinced that the entire WORLD OF FASHION has been SUCKED UP INTO NOTHING BY THE NOTHING. So much UNFASHION, in fact, that she and Zelda just had a Most Fashionable Conversation of Rage in which many Fashionable Discoveries were made, which may soon reach the blog, but, in the meantime, Vivienne is so unhinged by the UNFASHION she was forced to face that she cannot even talk about it, for spreading such UNFASHION to the world would be a serious act of UNFASHION. And Vivienne detests UNFASHION. And Vivienne instead loves Fashion. And Vivienne loves you. And so she gives you a Scene of Fashion, from Wigstock 2000:
