Sunday, March 1, 2009


Max-love Lover,

I've been writing some weird shit lately. Your beautiful notebook has been sullied by my vile thoughts, but maybe that's okay. I think I've been channeling Guyotat (total wacko). I've been wanting to transfer this feeling and image that's been charging around inside me: one of a woman who's so chock full of writhing, electric energy that her hair stands on end, crackling with electricity, currents thrumming from her fingertips and fucking serious flames in her eyes. She is the sound of giant amps stacked high turned to 11 blaring distorted electric guitars and wailing, wailing, wailing. More precisely, the distorted sound of a lion's roar through these amps.

I think it's the influence of the fire signs in my life: you, Persephone, Jessica. Y'all are fucking crazy and I love you for it. You seem lit up from the inside like your skin is about to rip apart and light about to come streaming out in big ol' rays that blind on-lookers by scalding their eyeballs to a filmy cloud of gack. You just don't quit. The term "balls to the wall" means nothing to you. Your balls are in the wall, like a foot deep. Your balls ARE the wall. I don't know. It's weird (and I'm this l'il air sign just blowing on you, saying, "Yeah, yeah, burn...")

The above is an email sent to dear-friend Maxwell Heller a while back. I post it not so much for its (eh hem, aack, blarf) literary value but because I recently found references to this electrified Jezabel beast woman in the work of Kathy Acker (The Adult Life of Henri de Toulouse Lautrec) and Dodie Bellamy (The Letters of Mina Harker) and wanted to share. Kathy and Dodie (In my head we're all total buds and hang out red tent style, chatting and drinking tea and calling people "fucking morons" together) get it and maybe, I got it from them and have since forgotten the source. Either way, see those references below:


Janis wasn't going to be put off like this. Goddamnit, he was going to notice her. Notice me! Notice me! her body cried. She ran into Jimmy and started punching him.
"Just cause you're some fuckin' MOVIE STAR," her eyes, skin, and hair seemed to light up and explode, "you think you can ignore me..."


...I was giving him more than he asked for and I hardly recognized myself in it...purged in the fires of the Book of Life I felt utterly bewitching my flaming hair crinkling like seaweed my logo-glossed lips spewing opinions..."

Thanks, ladies, and thank you to the band Karp, which has been providing the soundtrack to the burnination in my brain lately.


morgan said...

i've actually never commented on a blog before, lindsey. so, this is my first comment. i also very much enjoy your blog.

Ridiculous Human Things said...

Heh, heh, I've deflowered you! Or well, you deflowered yourself via my blog. I'm pleased. Please comment again, dear friend. It warms the cockles. I hope all is well in the "fi-ni-dee" this fine marnin'.

1 said...

"Balls to the wall"
I've never been described as either of these things in my entire life.
Not once.
Not ever.
Terms never used in the same sentence as my name before.
I don't know what you are referring to!

Ridiculous Human Things said...

Maybe it was an Olympia thing. We used to say (when we were little teenage things) "Rock out with your cock out. Balls to the wall!" It was crude, it was gender specific, but it made us feel cool and it meant that we were not holding back.

It changes as we age, maybe, but it's the same idea, similar to, "bust out, get shiny."

So much it's scary, maybe. Okay, now, I look back at your comment, Jess, and think you might be being facetious. Which is it? "You know what I mean." to quote a friend.

1 said...


That's C. Love, reckon she's never been described as "Crazy" or "Balls to the wall" neither.

I've also never been referred to as "facetious" before.

No I totally have! OMG Linds!

All I wanted was a Pepsi, blahblah blah.

You know what I mean.