Barbarella vs. September 11 by Tosh Berman

 

Barbarella vs. September 11

Tosh's Journal: September 11

TOSH'S JOURNAL

September 11

When the twin towers fell, I was thinking about Barbarella. When something horrific comes upon me, I immediately turn to a pleasant thought, or to be honest, an escape. There is always that moment in time when you don't know what's happening, and you are on the computer or watching television, and you're not getting news, but just the raw feelings of anxiety, fear, and numbness of watching the jet hitting the building over and over again. It becomes pornography after a while, and I prefer the Eros of Barbarella than seeing a death machine hitting a skyscraper. To have used that jet, not as a missile, but as a spacecraft going to another galaxy for the purpose of having sex with Barbarella. That is the purpose of machinery, to give and receive pleasure, not death.


I had to go to work that morning, and it was strange because I worked at a bookstore, and there were a lot of customers that day. I think they wanted to be with other people, and somehow a bookstore fits the location and the need when those wishing to make contact with others. I remember a customer coming in and asking if we had books on the al-Qaeda. I never heard of them, and it took me a while to get the correct spelling of the name to see if there were any books in print on that subject matter. Then shortly, another customer came in and wondered if we had any books on Osama bin Laden. Again, a name that I never heard of. What was interesting is that a lot of people were either freaking out or trying to comprehend what happened and what does that exactly mean in their lives. One thing I do remember was that the Sheriff's department closed off traffic to the West Hollywood City Hall. I thought to myself of "why would anyone want to attack the city hall of West Hollywood?" Nevertheless, I think everyone who saw a plane in the sky thought it might be a missile of death.


The cultural significance was when Salman Rushdie came into the store to shop, and this may be two or three days after September 11. He just wrote a book called "Fury", and he consented to sign the stock for our store. Rushdie was friendly and very disturbed about the attack. One thing he said that made an impression on me was that his novel ("Fury") is not important anymore. Rushdie stated that his book was the old New York, and now the attacks happened, his version of New York doesn't exist anymore. He was likewise left stranded because he couldn't fly back to his home in New York City. At the time, I read a lot of observations by New York writers, and all of them were interesting. The one that stays in my mind is a column in the Guardian newspaper, written by Jay McInerney, where he comments on the "before and after," and although it is a stock statement or cliché, it is also totally understandable. For me, my fear for the then future would be how the U.S. would react to the crisis. Sadly, and not surprisingly, they did everything wrong. Not only Iraq but our policies in dealing with the international world as well as the terribleness that is happening in the States. The terrorists sent us a box, and the U.S. opened that box without any hesitation. All the evil things came out, and no one will never ever be able to box up the ingredients of pain. The other thing that stayed in my mind was that our best selling title at the bookstore that month was "Zagat Los Angeles 2001."


Somewhere down the line, we traded our fantasies for despair and horror. We could have gone on the Barbarella route - to explore space and bodies, but instead, we now have a world that is not enjoyable or aesthetically pleasing. Just dread, misery, poverty, and a century (the 21st) that will be my last.

December 29, 2014

December 29, 2014

I can’t imagine a world without women.  That would be just my definition of hell on earth.  Throughout my life, I have been drawn to a woman that is both creative, seductive, smart, and is aware of the “role” of a woman in a very corrupt horrible culture that we live in now.  I have consistently been embarrassed by my gender, with respect how the world has treated women.  In no fashion or style can I claim to be not a sexist, because I was born in a sexist world - therefore I must be a sexist.  Sadly the same goes for racism.  Without a doubt we live in a racist world, so how can we not be racist?   It’s a social disease that must be cured, but the first step is to realize that we exist in such a horrifying and horrible world.

The beauty of a woman is extremely important to me.  It’s a dangerous concept, because beauty can be only skin-deep, or it can be an entrance to a complex world where if one added aesthetic feelings as well as sexual attraction, which in most cases are very hard to define.  One time in my life it could be just clothing and nothing else.  If a woman wore a certain color, or fabric, it would immediately turn me on.  I could never figure out how that worked exactly.  The second thing that turned me on is situations where a female has a role in a highly controlled situation.   The maid, the nurse, wife, or a woman from a particular culture and country.   It’s very mysterious how that works out to a man’s sexuality.

For me, it would have to be the taste of the exotic, which in reality it does not have anything to with anything.  It’s a visual thought, or a distant feeling that somehow is important to one’s sensual history.   In most of my life, I have worked in a bookstore, and I have always been attracted to women who work in such stores.  A woman who carries a book around is a picture of pornography for me.   I remember one time I was on a bus, and I saw this young woman reading a vintage paperback movie tie-in edition of Alberto Moravia’s “Contempt.” My first thought was where did she get this edition of this book?  Then I noticed that she was quite beautiful, and I couldn’t separate her from the book she was holding.  Is there anything more exquisite than a pretty girl holding and reading a book with Brigitte Bardot on the cover?

I wanted to approach her, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to her.   I saw her again on the bus, maybe a month or two later, and again, she was reading a favorite book of mine by Andrew Loog Oldham - and I couldn’t fathom why this young woman is caught on the bus reading two of my favorite books.  Especially, to remind you, two very obscure editions of a book.  The Oldham book could only be purchased as an import, and it is not an easy book to find either on the Internet or in a bookstore.   For that reason alone I had a sexual fixation on her, but I just didn’t know how to approach her, or even make a comment to her.  The series of moments were too perfect, and therefore I didn’t want to destroy the spell of the moment, by saying something idiotic or stupid.

Women are objects of desire.  The question I have is why do I feel that way?   It is only when I spend a great deal of time with a woman that I realize that they are just as complexly as a male, and at times I even forget that there is a gender difference between us.  But the initial impression is like a lighted match on a long fuse, and it burns slowly.  Logic is scattered out of the window, and I’m left amazed that I’m in a world that I can’t fully explain, but surely I have strong feelings for.

September 11, 2014

September 11, 2014

When the twin towers fell, I was thinking about Barbarella.  When something horrific comes upon me, I immediately turn to a pleasant thought, or to be honest, an escape.  There is always that moment in time when you don’t know what’s happening, and you are on the computer or watching television, and you’re not getting news, but just the raw feelings of anxiety, fear, and numbness of watching the jet hitting the building over and over again. It becomes pornography after while, and I just prefer the Eros of Barbarella than seeing a death machine hitting a skyscraper.  To have used that jet, not as a missile, but as a spacecraft going to another galaxy for the purpose of having sex with Barbarella.   That is the purpose of machinery, to give and receive pleasure not death.

I had to go to work that morning and it was strange, because I worked at a bookstore, and there were a lot of customers that day.  I think they wanted to be with other people, and somehow a bookstore fits the location and the need when those want to make contact with others.   I remember a customer coming in and asking if we had books on the al-Qaeda.  I never heard of them, and it took me awhile to get the correct spelling of the name to see if there were any books in print on that subject matter.  Then shortly another customer came in and wonders if we had any books on Osama bin Laden.  Again, a name that I never heard of. What was interesting is that a lot of people were either freaking out, or trying to comprehend what happened and what does that exactly mean in their lives.  One thing I do remember was that the Sheriff’s department closed off traffic to the West Hollywood City Hall.  I thought to myself of “why would anyone want to attack the city hall of West Hollywood?” Nevertheless, I think everyone who saw a plane in the sky thought it may be a missile of death.

The cultural significance was when Salman Rushdie came into the store to shop, and this maybe two or three days after September 11.  He just wrote a book called “Fury” and he consented to sign the stock for our store. He was friendly, and very disturbed about the attack.  One thing he said that made an impression on me, was that his novel (“Fury”) is totally not important anymore.  He stated that his novel was the old New York, and now the attacks happened, his version of New York doesn’t exist anymore.  He was likewise left stranded, because he couldn’t fly back to his home in New York City.  At the time, I read a lot of observations by New York writers and all of them were interesting.  The one that stays in my mind is a column in the Guardian newspaper, written by Jay McInerney, where he comments on the “before and after,” and although it is a stock statement or cliché, it is also totally understandable.  For me, my fear for the then future would be how the U.S. would react to the crisis.  Sadly, and not surprisingly, they did everything wrong.  Not only Iraq, but our policies in dealing with the international world as well as the terribleness that is happening in the States.  The terrorists sent us a box and the U.S. opened that box without any hesitation.  All the evil things came out, and no one will never ever be able to box up the ingredients of pain.  The other thing that stayed in my mind was that our best selling title at the bookstore that month was "Zagat Los Angeles 2001."  
Somewhere down the line we traded our fantasies for despair and horror.  We could have gone on the Barbarella route - to explore space and bodies, but instead we now have a world that is not enjoyable or aesthetically pleasing.  Just dread, misery, poverty, and a century (the 21st) that will be my last...