A conversation between two thieves
_______________________________________"I shall forge in the smithy of
my soul..._"___'the uncreated '____________'conscience of my race '
Her: does that mean that what he wrote was not true?
_______________________________________"I shall forge in the smithy of
my soul..._"___'the uncreated '____________'conscience of my race '
Her: does that mean that what he wrote was not true?
Me: O! No on the contrary it's true true true true and more true. With this exception __ it's exceptional not the norm. You see he had not yet moved
over
to the territory that Uncle Sartre had prophesied in the last parts of his book, Saint Genet.
Her: Namely?
Me: he was on the way to becoming a collective being, in Uncle Sartre's words, a singular universal I think it was ... but in in any
case he had not yet, not yet drawn himself away from that older self and into the newer self of becomings that clarified
his relations to others.. he had take n the steps ,, the first ones , , . Yet one can say he was always there becoming them becoming what he was
to be.
Her: Can you elaborate that , more?
Me: yes and no because it's none of it sure, or certain to be ~.
Anyhow,
Me: yes and no because it's none of it sure, or certain to be ~.
Anyhow,
Me: he hadn't yet completely embraced the others he was in a sense to become the political relations he was to have _ I don't mean he had not embraced them personally he had, but I mean in his life at the level of supporting the specific struggles of Blacks and ____
more and more in the sixties and seventies with the Blacks and the young Palestinians.
And that led him to the path, no not the path, but the way to his last book, to writing his last book.
Her: You don't seem quite so sure of yourself here. Do you believe you have some authority to speak of these things? Or are you just making them up based on memories and other things you've considered.
let s be honest you're not his son, you never were. You're no t his son. Radio Genet is some mad invention.
You're a different type of being . And that is not bad, not bad at all. He's not your father he's your uncle.
Me: what is an uncle if not a father?
He was indeed my father and Angela was my mother. George Jackson. Look a t
the initials they're Genet's in reverse. J __ G __ , Like a lover a calm clandestine anagram perhaps..... you see there are connections, hidden ones at that among things you don't know...
Her : But they were black and you are white and Irish and Jewish. What are you ?
You're a mongrel, a dog a mixed mutt of kinship and this ship.
Me: But no matter I am them both, and they're problems are not ours. The dead are not dead gods, but men and women.
I salute him and leave him to tarry, so to speak my own forests. Of wet and vine, giant and divine.
There's no forest like the other's .
His work
ends where mine own starts. I am closer in many ways to the Kerouacian strain of lyric but Papa made false distinctions and like d to play games that was
his thing and everyone, or not everyone necessarily, believed him. it was all a lie, a send up, a puff of smoke, and mirror talk .
I put periods between lies, he doesn't . he punctuates his sentences with
them. Thus Genet my papa was a liar and thief,
where as I the bastard son am a thief and liar, a chief teller of stories and make up yarns.
__________________I am the lover and he is the deceived book. His classical french bought him a seat at the Gallimard god's gallery.
Not everyone at that place was as lucky, or so blessed. And for your information I suspect that he was something that none f his critics have yet imagined but I wont tell you what it was until they figure it out. It's a secret.
You see like Burroughs he was a man of his time and because he was he did not go as far as he might have ... We do as we are the men women of our time and our like is our dishonesty our love ~ .
Her: I love you.
...: L’atelier d’Alberto Giacometti
.JPG)
