A Dramatic Dawn

Keep on losing, Success is worse.

My dearest,

I hate the day when I don't do something new. Making art. What is art? It is the aurora of something new, when everything have been destroy in your head.

I had some bitter sweets to swallow. It happens sometimes. Like the prodigal son, it only matters when you reappear, out of the psych yard, into the wild.

Whatever you need, I am here for you.

What comes after when everything is in ruins?

All this reminds me of Jean Giraudoux's play Electra. The final scene shows Electra, re-establishing the truth, cursed, dispossessed, and decimating the city — when the splendor of that truth appears a way too violent. The very last line ends the play on a delicious note of ambiguity. Here it is:

Narses’ wife: “What’s happening, poor little Electra, what’s happening?”

Electra: “What is happen­ing?”

Narses’ wife: “Yes, explain! I don’t catch on very quickly. I can tell that something is hap­pening, of course, but I can’t tell what it is. What do you call it when the city is in ruins, sacked and pillaged, and yet morning comes, and there is a freshness in the air? When the city is in flames, when all is lost, when the innocent are killing each other, and yet over in the corner in the morning light the guilty are dy­ing.”

Electra: “Ask the beggar. He knows.”

Beggar: “It has a very beau­tiful name, Narses’s wife. It is call­ed dawn.”

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Each start is like a phoenix on ashes

Electra, Narses’ wife and the beggar.

You need that deep energy taken between the legs of a mistress, that nectar is the best way to be drunk. Don’t we say a drunk tongue is an honest one. Lick. Lick it all, from the ass to the clitoris, and back. That’s what you are good for.

Art fills the soul, sex heals the body

The essence of femininity isn't being a woman. It's getting down on all fours, begging Mistress to lick her gigantic clit while you're in nylons and garter belts. Go ahead, make her pussy blush with your red lipstick, ruin your mascara, cry sissy slut.

Beggar, whoever you are, you are the one who lick Electra the best.

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“What a great time to be alive if you love the theatre of the absurd.” — David Lynch

I've received delicate emails asking me about my silence. That’s the most delicate way to offer healing: Asking how you are, noticing that you may be lost.

Love, always.
Sissi