Writing At the Edge of the Real

No matter how often I revisit Lacan’s concept of The Real – its impossibility, its muteness – I always come back to Robert Graves’ poem, “The Cool Web.” The Real is where the signifieds live, in all their raw nowness, their newness, their unremitting foreverness.  And a lot of what I’ve read tells me that, Continue Reading

“Feminine Jouissance” or Kicking Against the Prick(s) of Lacan

Sylvia_Bataille

I, like most women and probably some men who take on Lacan’s ideas, am really having a problem with his concepts of sexuation. I have travelled a long way with Lacan, and it’s a good thing this blog is iterative, because if I look back at some of my posts and earlier attempts to take Continue Reading

Intersexions: Lacan’s Refusal or You Will Find the Man of your Dreams in your Dreams

John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester

In Seminar XX, often called “Encore” or “On Feminine Sexuality: The Limits of Love and Knowledge,” Lacan makes two very controversial statements. I think it is essential for anyone claiming to use Lacanian Psychoanalytical Criticism as their methodology to at least believe that they have understood what he meant by them.  The first is “la Continue Reading

Writing the Erotic Phenomenologically

One of the biggest problems with being a writer is language. Yes, it happens to be the tool we work with, too, but never the less, there is an aspect to language that gets in the way, especially when it comes to the description of bodily and emotional experience. Language isn’t just a tool for Continue Reading

Sound and Fury

That first three months had been months of silence. Not a lack of noise. The noise was ceaseless. Voices in a language she didn’t know, with its astonishing range of tonality. The dips and rises and cutting off of breath that indicated, not emotion, but meaning itself. Then there were the mechanical sounds. It was Continue Reading

Haunted Skin Seminar Slides

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The Commission

Blair had never kissed anyone, ever.  And, of course, no one had ever kissed him. That seems obvious, but when people kiss, it’s never really clear who is doing the kissing and who is being kissed once their lips meet. I met him at a craft fair in Camden.  He watched me weld the edges Continue Reading

Three Little Letters

“What’s the R for?” I asked her, in an offhand way I hoped sounded like I didn’t care all that much. “Oh, that,” she drawled, pulling out the a and flattening it like a ribbon. She glanced over her shoulder and gave a soft, low laugh, like she’d forgotten it was there. “Dumb stuff you Continue Reading

History’s Erotic Impossibility

I’ve always been obsessed with history. I wank against old walls, moisten while reading about the Spanish Civil war, the Crusades, the Inquisition in South America, the Russian Revolution, the Long March. It has taken me a long time to unravel why it is that history does this to me and why, when I visit Continue Reading

Fragments of #MadeleineLeBouc 1

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