Later, as I write up the interview, I am also musing on a recent episode of a podcast I listen to, about re-watchable movies. This week’s episode is about Terminator 2 and how the Linda Hamilton character who tries to warn people of the dangers of SkyNet, by today’s standards, could be characterised as a conspiracy theorist.
The AI transcript of the interview translates the word ‘jigsaw’ (in regards to a feminist writing technique) as Dick’s sore. I contemplate the intelligence of this error.
Am I Q? Long road drive and I’m thinking about Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2 predicting the end of times from her insane asylum we wanted fragments Cixous and Kristeva language shatterers every mosaic tiny mirror small life poetry bursting from feminism’s bosom we got them like the glass they make windscreens out of this shattering into dust sand needle hovering at a hundred clicks adrenaline rush change lanes to get out of the way it isn’t always a guy in a white ute [always try to think maybe they are having just one bad day] sometimes I’ve been the arsehole in the rear-view mirror just a bit too close after all who was ‘Anon’ for all those years? the theory doesn’t hold I know a chasm between seeing the rot and using poison to fix it [don’t worry there are no reds under this] but the cracks pry open like the liquid cop her predator who can melt and reform slip through any a shape shifter chimera enough to shimmer vision we wanted fragments the narrative myth to explode once it shatters how to gather or does it just keep slipping glass dust through fingers settling on corneas nestling into lungs do the microscopic shards threaten to infect the layers beneath the skin
I am trying to express that which wants to be expressed in the form of a poem. Dissatisfied. I will come back to it. The project is about failure after all. Consider whether these segments, the critic, should be in second person.
There is something here. Is there something here? The feminist emphasis on deconstructing singular narratives, embracing multiplicity and fragmentation. Listening to the news story about QAnon I was struck by language about the movement’s desire to question authority and resist dominant narratives. A shock of winter air through the car vents. But the feminist resistance and fragmentation is … good and the QAnon version is … bad? Jigsaw. Dick’s sore. I struggle to articulate this argument with myself. And so, the poem. As I piece together the interview and try to make a small story about the day. As I select fragments, curate them, and put them together.
