Dream a little dream of my non-face.
I've been thinking about a dream I had a few days ago. Here is what the text below the cut contains: references to pornography, relatively-bloodless but still-disturbing mutilation of a corpse, grossness.
I was working on the set of a pornographic movie. The woman who was the star of the production had been ill, and died rather suddenly. The director, another woman, claimed that she had permission to use of the star's corpse. (This permission, it was implied, was a written document, signed by the star. It was never produced for me to read, and I had a vague sense that it didn't exist.)
The bonus section of the DVD was to include a featurette entitled, "What Happened to Her." I was part of the crew who filmed this featurette. The woman's body was sitting upright in a chair, naked, her hands open and loose on her thighs. Her hair was stiff and tangled, and her skin had the waxy sheen of the newly dead. Her face, and the front portion of her skull, had been cleanly cut off. A pink plastic oval had been installed, and the edges fused with her skin.
As we filmed, the director plugged in an electric drill. She drilled through the plate, into the skull of the woman. She set up a stand to hold the drill, and left it there, running. We took pictures, with flash, while the director crouched beside the star's body. The star's left foot tapped once, in slow-motion. "It's a leftover impulse," the director said, still smiling for the photographs.
I woke up from this dream feeling shaky and hungry. I finally dragged myself out of bed, and gave MOSS a hug as soon as I got up, going up on my tiptoes as I did so. My head started to swim, and I remember saying "head rush." There was a lot of shouting, a car turning a corner too fast, a bright day in the Piazza del Popolo. Then I was on the ground, sitting tailor-style, shaking. MOSS was sitting next to me. "Huh," I said.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm okay," I said. I took a deep breath. I stopped shaking.
"Okay," he repeated. "You went limp and sat down, and you were shaking."
"Did you shout something?"
"No," he said.
Later, we talked to his mother, who is a nurse. She said it was probably low blood sugar.
His mother is having surgery on her rotator cuff soon. They offered her the opportunity to have a tape of her surgery. "I would take the tape," I said, when MOSS told me.
"I know," MOSS said.
"I love me some uncanny valley."
"Jesus fuck," MOSS said, and rolled his eyes. This is a fairly common reaction that MOSS has, and is entirely deserved.
Still, I'm kind of interested in the idea of a video -- which is by nature of being media a disembodying frame -- of a temporarily disowned body. I've been reading affect theory in my spare time, with a fairly skeptical frame of mind. Affect theory is -- and I am hopelessly reductionist here, keep in mind -- all about "intensities," about the pre-language, embodied experience of emotions that are then translated (by language, signification) into feelings. What I will admit to liking about affect theory is the idea that the body can act and be part of our lives without our control. What happens when my body is not my possession, but rather another co-existing entity?
I think the combination of all that, the affect theory, the surgery video, is why I had the dream of the pornography star.
Still no concrete clue of why I fainted, or why the Piazza del Popolo flashed through my mind, but I'm sure it's connected. Why not?
------
To reassure you:
Last night I dreamed about Care Bears that were punching things and then the things turned purple and then I had a raygun and then I made out with someone who looked weirdly like Lady Gaga but was not.
Unrelated hockey fandom stuff:
spinfrog has been posting links to hockey videos and stuff lately, which makes me wriggle with joy. Here is a video where Kaner scores a goal and then jumps into Duncan Keith's Patrick Sharp's arms. [Edit: Also you have probably seen this already, but Patrick Burke and some other hockey dudes are not down with homophobia and it's adorable.]
I'm at a writing retreat for my dissertation this week. I have been pretty good thus far, but later I am probably going to keep working on Sid/Geno bruiseplay fic like a creeper. It's supposed to be commentfic, but it's already a thousand words and it's mostly just Sidney being asexual and then having issues. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I just really like thinking about Sidney Crosby being all conflicted about his not-quite-asexuality.
Also seriously someone write me a long story about Hall and Eberle and RNH playing gay chicken until it's just a sexpile. Or I'll cry. Thank you. [Edit: I keep seeing this when I read my friendslist -- because none of you are posting because you hate me -- and each time I think "NO SERIOUSLY SOMEONE OUGHTA WRITE THAT." God, it would be amazing. Just the thought of the awkwardness makes me laugh like a drain.]
Recommended:
pearl-o linked to this amazing X-Men: First Class kink prompt fill, where Charles and Erik jerk off next to each other and then have feelings and also underage (age sixteen) sex. Highly recommended, if you're into that sort of thing.
I was working on the set of a pornographic movie. The woman who was the star of the production had been ill, and died rather suddenly. The director, another woman, claimed that she had permission to use of the star's corpse. (This permission, it was implied, was a written document, signed by the star. It was never produced for me to read, and I had a vague sense that it didn't exist.)
The bonus section of the DVD was to include a featurette entitled, "What Happened to Her." I was part of the crew who filmed this featurette. The woman's body was sitting upright in a chair, naked, her hands open and loose on her thighs. Her hair was stiff and tangled, and her skin had the waxy sheen of the newly dead. Her face, and the front portion of her skull, had been cleanly cut off. A pink plastic oval had been installed, and the edges fused with her skin.
As we filmed, the director plugged in an electric drill. She drilled through the plate, into the skull of the woman. She set up a stand to hold the drill, and left it there, running. We took pictures, with flash, while the director crouched beside the star's body. The star's left foot tapped once, in slow-motion. "It's a leftover impulse," the director said, still smiling for the photographs.
I woke up from this dream feeling shaky and hungry. I finally dragged myself out of bed, and gave MOSS a hug as soon as I got up, going up on my tiptoes as I did so. My head started to swim, and I remember saying "head rush." There was a lot of shouting, a car turning a corner too fast, a bright day in the Piazza del Popolo. Then I was on the ground, sitting tailor-style, shaking. MOSS was sitting next to me. "Huh," I said.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm okay," I said. I took a deep breath. I stopped shaking.
"Okay," he repeated. "You went limp and sat down, and you were shaking."
"Did you shout something?"
"No," he said.
Later, we talked to his mother, who is a nurse. She said it was probably low blood sugar.
His mother is having surgery on her rotator cuff soon. They offered her the opportunity to have a tape of her surgery. "I would take the tape," I said, when MOSS told me.
"I know," MOSS said.
"I love me some uncanny valley."
"Jesus fuck," MOSS said, and rolled his eyes. This is a fairly common reaction that MOSS has, and is entirely deserved.
Still, I'm kind of interested in the idea of a video -- which is by nature of being media a disembodying frame -- of a temporarily disowned body. I've been reading affect theory in my spare time, with a fairly skeptical frame of mind. Affect theory is -- and I am hopelessly reductionist here, keep in mind -- all about "intensities," about the pre-language, embodied experience of emotions that are then translated (by language, signification) into feelings. What I will admit to liking about affect theory is the idea that the body can act and be part of our lives without our control. What happens when my body is not my possession, but rather another co-existing entity?
I think the combination of all that, the affect theory, the surgery video, is why I had the dream of the pornography star.
Still no concrete clue of why I fainted, or why the Piazza del Popolo flashed through my mind, but I'm sure it's connected. Why not?
------
To reassure you:
Last night I dreamed about Care Bears that were punching things and then the things turned purple and then I had a raygun and then I made out with someone who looked weirdly like Lady Gaga but was not.
Unrelated hockey fandom stuff:
spinfrog has been posting links to hockey videos and stuff lately, which makes me wriggle with joy. Here is a video where Kaner scores a goal and then jumps into Duncan Keith's Patrick Sharp's arms. [Edit: Also you have probably seen this already, but Patrick Burke and some other hockey dudes are not down with homophobia and it's adorable.]
I'm at a writing retreat for my dissertation this week. I have been pretty good thus far, but later I am probably going to keep working on Sid/Geno bruiseplay fic like a creeper. It's supposed to be commentfic, but it's already a thousand words and it's mostly just Sidney being asexual and then having issues. I don't know why I'm telling you this, I just really like thinking about Sidney Crosby being all conflicted about his not-quite-asexuality.
Also seriously someone write me a long story about Hall and Eberle and RNH playing gay chicken until it's just a sexpile. Or I'll cry. Thank you. [Edit: I keep seeing this when I read my friendslist -- because none of you are posting because you hate me -- and each time I think "NO SERIOUSLY SOMEONE OUGHTA WRITE THAT." God, it would be amazing. Just the thought of the awkwardness makes me laugh like a drain.]
Recommended:
pearl-o linked to this amazing X-Men: First Class kink prompt fill, where Charles and Erik jerk off next to each other and then have feelings and also underage (age sixteen) sex. Highly recommended, if you're into that sort of thing.