The first disturbing event of first-year university was the day I went to meet a childhood friend of mine when he was discharged from the insane asylum.
Continue readingArchive for February, 2021
Happy 60th Birthday, Henry Rollins
Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Real Men, resistance training with tags Asylum, Cronos, Judith Herman, King Lear, Morbid Angel, Rollins Band, Slayer, The End of Silence, The Palace St Kilda, Trauma and Recovery on February 28, 2021 by Jarrod Boyle
Why I Don’t Believe in the Patriarchy (But Still Consider Myself a Feminist)
Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory with tags Clementine Ford, Eurydice Dixon, feminist, Jean-Paul Sartre, John Berger, Laura Mulvey, Lisa Wilkinson, Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth, The Project, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, Ways of Seeing, Women Don't Owe You Pretty on February 19, 2021 by Jarrod Boyle
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When Lisa Wilkinson explained on ‘The Project’ television program that Eurydice Dixon was murdered by a man who was the pointy end of a patriarchal culture which is driven to murder women as it sexualises them, I was outraged.
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Why I Don’t Believe in the Patriarchy (But Still Consider Myself A Feminist).
Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory with tags Easter Bunny, Feminism, patriarchy, Santa Claus, Satan, sexual assault, Simone De Beauvoir, The Beauty Myth, The Female Eunuch, The Second Sex on February 16, 2021 by Jarrod Boyle
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The patriarchy is like Satan, the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. Sure, there’s some kind of cause and effect involved, but the figure itself is bought into being by those wanting to explain more subtle and complex phenomena, but are happy to settle for an easy answer with a face on it.
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‘Ashes in Your Mouth’: Spending Time in Giovanni’s Room.
Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Reading on February 7, 2021 by Jarrod Boyle
“You think,” [Jacques] persisted, “That my life is shameful because my encounters are. And they are. But you should ask yourself why they are.”
“Why are they – shameful?”
“Because there is no affection in them, and no joy. It’s like putting an electric plug in a dead socket. Touch, but no contact. All touch, but no contact and no light.”
“I asked him, ‘Why?”
“That you must ask yourself,” he told me, “And perhaps one day this morning will not be ashes in your mouth.”
– James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room,
P. 49
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Theme Park at its Darkest 