This is the prologue to +’s second novel, big amounts, coming 8/20
Do you think I came to give peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.
And where thereās one
theyāre bound to divide it,
Right in two.
Right in two.
This is a vignette about shame and anger, about the disgraced fall of a beloved icon from my childhood. That man is Jackie Chan. And also David Bowie. Iām listening to Toolās āRight In Two,ā for the first time in maybe ten years. I just finished Pitchforkās review of the new David Bowie album Blackstar, it talks about him dying a little more than Iām comfortable with. I think āI hope Davidās still alive when we figure out how to stop death. Of course he will beā but am still a little uneasy because of reality. Toolās āRight In Twoā centers on a very basic metaphor of Biblical angels watching humans fight over things, have communication problems, I let it play over the beginning of Jackie Chanās Project A.
The first fight in Project A is a bar fight. Jackie Chan, a sailor, repeatedly tries to resist provocations by the rival police force. Again and again, he holds his fellow sailors back. Thatās the Jackie I remember, the sweet man who only fights when he absolutely absolutely has to. He knows better, he is on the right side of unity, Tool would say. When the fight starts anyway, Jackie and his main opponent are equals and mirrors. āThey shouldnāt be fighting,ā I imagine Jackie, the writer and director, psychically saying to us, the viewers. āThey are the same, with the same goals, only communication separates them.ā
As the movie goes on, I understand it less and less, my interest wanes, starts to turn into anger at what I find to be incoherent pacing, unlikeable and one-dimensional characters, and sexism. I pause Project A with a half hour left and send Dylan a screenshot of a pirate character, the main baddie. The pirate has just grabbed a woman he is holding hostage and looked down her blouse and thrown her aside, she looks aghast and sexually aroused. āMaybe Jackie is making an complex point about humanityās conflation of sexuality and violenceā I half-think, knowing it isnāt true.
Then I see the Huffington Post article. āDavid Bowie Dead At 69ā or whatever, and I know it isnāt true, I am horrified, I am clicking scrolling refreshing looking for the signs where it is a joke. And it isnāt a joke. I start posting about him immediately. I start getting Likes, I start reading things, I go on Twitter and start tweeting, start retweeting and getting retweeted, I almost cry for a second, I am getting high off of loving this man, I feel purified by his life, by his legacy, I feel close with all of my late night social networkers. My history, my self, things bigger than me.
When I start the movie again, Jackie is giving a speech about how the pirates must be wiped out. After the movie, I re-read about Jackieās pro-fascist comments in the media, wonder about his upbringing, feel bad, sad, weird.
Then he also said to the crowds: āWhen you see a cloud rising in the west, at once you say, āA storm is coming,ā and it happens.
Angels on the sideline,
Baffled and confused.
Father blessed them all with reason.
And this is what they choose.
Sasha texts me, āwhat is the drama about Calvin Johnson in your event lolā and I already know whatās about to happen. Iām scrolling the comments, ācreepā ⦠āmoneyā ⦠āassholeā ⦠Iām waiting for it why did she say creep why did she say creep āunderaged girls.ā Ernest the dog keeps trying to hump my friend, she says āNO MEANS NO,ā I donāt laugh or almost laugh this time, I start talking about the work Iām doing with artists and communities. I assume everyone I meet is a perpetrator now, Iāve seen too much. Or just enough, āSomeoneās going to say āDavid Bowie cut off my dadās head,ā or some shit I know itā I say. She doesnāt say anything, downstairs Jerrod is strumming Bowie āNO MEANS NOā weāve been listening to nothing but Bowie.
When we are leaving Jerrod is still singing āLife on Mars?,ā we all hit the high note together, us in a triangle, I half-think āwe are his disciples, we are conjuring him, he is alive, we are so aliveā itās not unlike what happens in Bowieās second to last video, āBlackstar,ā a thinly but richly veiled metaphor for his own death and influence as an icon that people worship and convulse to in their little hovels. When we watch āBlackstarā and the skeleton is floating through space, I get the sickest dĆ©jĆ vu. I hope I am the one to pick up Davidās crystal skull.
Iām back at home, rushing, eating too fast, listening to David Bowie, my brother is talking to me, I feel abused by him, a lot is happening, too much for me to swallow, I have to get to the sexual violence townhall, and thenā¦
the organizer of the townhall makes a status, listing David Bowie with Bill Cosby and R. Kelly
Iām a blackstar, Iām a blackstar
I scroll, and click, another angry status, āpedophile,ā ācheck your idols,ā my brother is talking
I canāt answer why
I am dizzy somewhere a thinkpiece, I have to go
why are you attacking me
something happened on the day he died
somebody else took his place
and bravely cried
I walk into the townhall, I am wearing the glitter tears I have been wearing all day for Bowieās death. A white man talks a few times, ānot trying to be insensitiveā starts one phrase
why are you attacking me
I feel the air leave the room when he talks, then he is a victim, then āiām going to play devilās advocateā
why are you attacking me
every time he speaks, and someone is politely but obviously reacting with the microphone, we donāt have time for your shit, white man, donāt have the emotional capacity. 8 of 10 women, less than one percent,
I am speaking, about support for survivors and perpetrators, utilizing the community, the perpetratorās friends and mentors, and transformation, the perpetrators must be cared for it is good but I am hot, and what are they doing maybe I am saying the wrong thing, or it the wrong way, I am attacking everyone I am sure of it, I came here to do the work, and I instead I am a fool, I knew it, I know it, itās my fault we donāt have time for this.
Itās over, so many friends, warm hearts, good thoughts, exchanging emails, my friend says something about de-friending people who sheās disappointed in for all their David Bowie shit, she is smirking, he is a āpedophileā and a āNazi sympathizerā
why are you attacking me!
I laugh and make an excuse, my joy is gone but I am still smiling/smirking back. Lazarus has died twice in one day, and I am dying too. The organizer of the townhall says my glitter makes her so happy!
Diamonds in my eyes,
Iām a blackstar, Iām blackstar,
something happened on the day he died
Hypocrites, you know how to examine the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to examine this particular time? Why do you not judge also for yourselves what is righteous?
For example, when you are going with your legal opponent to a ruler, while on the way, get to work to settle the dispute with him so that he may not summon you before the judge, and the judge deliver you to the court officer, and the court officer throw you into prison.
āThere is nothing wrong,ā I say slowly to the floor. āIām in here.ā Iām raised by the crutches of my underarms, shaken toward what he must see as calm by a purple-faced Director: āGet a grip, son!ā
DeLint at the big manās arm: āStop it!ā
āI am not what you see and hear.ā
Distant sirens. A crude half nelson. Forms at the door. A young Hispanic woman holds her palm against her mouth, looking.
āIām not,ā I say.