and i quote...
yesterday i went with paul to the annual meeting of the nwu vermont local. it was billed as a cookout (country music! swimming! free barbecue!) as well as a meeting. little did we know that the meeting part would take five hours and the cookout a mere fifteen minutes. i was left to my own devices during the meeting, so sat out on the deck overlooking acres of beautiful gardens, a frog-clogged pond, and the distant mountains.
as i sat, a woman came out and joined me. her name was phyllis. phyllis is a raving madwoman. here, now, i will tell you what phyllis said.
[julie nods and murmurs, trying to be polite without drawing phyllis into further conversation]
[phyllis shakes the clear contents of a jam jar vigorously, unscrews the top, and drinks deeply]
i was going to go swimming. i even brought a bathing suit. but i don't know how deep the water is and there could be chemicals in it.
[julie considers a mild contradiction, believing that no frogs could survive in the pond if it were doctored with chemicals, but ultimately decides she doesn't care whether phyllis goes swimming or not. instead julie nods and murmurs — see above.]
[a few others venture outside, including a woman with long, spidery black hair who introduces herself as the daughter of a poet who won a national book award: "we're a family of writers."]
i had to come outside because of my chemical sensitivities.
[spider-woman asks, "what are chemical sensitivities?"]
did you know that since world war two there have been fifty thousand new chemicals pumped into the environment?
[julie tunes out for a while. hum de dum, look at that bird. i think i'll plant some globe thistle in my garden next year. i wonder when the burgers will be ready.]
i write poems. i haven't had any published in a while but i have two in a college anthology.
[she quotes the title of the anthology...and the names of the editors...and the publication date...and the name of the publisher. spider-woman mentions again that her mother won the national book award for poetry.]
my first chapbook came out in 1972. it was the first time my publisher published a book by a woman. they were going to publish some poems by a woman that the publisher was fucking, but i saw the poems and said, "my poems are better than that! why won't you publish mine?!" he said, "we will!" and they did!
[emphasis on "fucking" is hers, not mine. please note that an eight-year-old girl sits three feet to the left of their little group, avidly following the conversation.]
then when my book came out, there was an event to showcase it and two other books by women poets. the small books editor of the washington post was there.
[julie wonders whether it was the books that were small or the editor.]
everybody expected him to write about one of the other books, because he was fucking the writer, but he didn't! and he was fucking the other writer, too. but he talked about my book. everybody said he must be fucking me!
[julie makes a mental note to the effect that if anyone had ever fucked phyllis, it must have been many moons ago indeed.]
here's what he said about my book:
[phyllis quotes at length from the thirty-year-old review. julie tunes out, filtering in only words like "luminous," "trenchant," and "poignant."]
[spider-woman, in a flurry of oh-would-you-look-at-the-time, makes to go inside again.]
before you go, may i recite a poem for you?
[julie almost laughs aloud, delighted. spider-woman frantically considers bolting, but capitulates.]
young zionism
[as an aside, phyllis asks spider-woman if she's jewish. spider-woman declines to say.]
when we were 15
they told us
no drinking, smoking, or screwing
until we reached israel
no wonder
they called it
the promised land.
and then they all went inside.
later we hightailed it out of there with indecent speed so that phyllis could not request a ride home from us. if she'd asked, i was all set to lie and say i'd worn perfume.
Comments
I knew there was a reason why I was opposed to joining the NWU. All this time I thought it was 'cause it's a union, but now I have been enlightened.
Posted by: paul^2 | July 14, 2003 09:42 AM
I do think, that for phyllis's self-esteem, it's a bloody good thing that I wasn't there with you. you know the part where you "almost" laugh aloud? i think we could forget the "almost" part.
Posted by: terry | July 14, 2003 12:47 PM
that statement is the perfect example of what a very bad influence we are on each other.
Posted by: julie | July 14, 2003 12:58 PM
someone once gave me a 'my buddy' doll when i was in college. i named him phyllis. i am happy to report that, despite a string of semi-lecherous college roommates with murky boudoir proclivities, my phyllis never got fuck*d either. phyllis. phallus. fill us. whatever.
Posted by: harold | July 14, 2003 04:32 PM
apropos of...well, nothing, in college i named my artgum eraser mariah. it was black.
Posted by: julie | July 15, 2003 08:55 AM
the only thing my friends ever named was their bong. it was called jordan, after the third roommate they were supposed to have. conveniently, he never showed up, and the bong took his place.
Posted by: terry | July 15, 2003 08:57 AM