In Imitatio Borghi

Imitation is sweeping the blogosphere, people, and I've caught the bug. I don't like to talk about it, for fear of losing my hard-earned street cred, but this blog was started for a class. As such, there are a few classy things I have to do. I think we can agree that business as usual around here is decidedly un-classy. Tonight's class business is a stylistic imitation post, in the flavor of My Own Private Pocatello (Incidently, Pocatello is a small town that no one has ever heard of in Idaho. I'm pretty sure no one really lives there), which is a pretty neat little slice of the internet. I hope this isn't offensive/weird!

Blogging in the voice of newswoman/local celebrity from a town in Idaho that no one really lives in? This block has never been queerer.

I know what you're probably thinking! (really though, my mom is probably the only one reading this. I know what you're thinking, Mom!) "This is just gonna be Will Danger, with a wig on his head. And I wish you'd stop embarrassing me in public." No promises on the latter, but on the former, you're right, Mom. Unfortunately, I lead a significantly less exciting life than the woman whom I am imitating, and shes quite a bit cleverer than I. Also, I don't want this to turn into a memoir-type blog exactly. So, wig on my head and 8 inch stillettos nearby, just in case, we begin. Why is it that regardless of the stylistic persona I'm wearing, the only jokes I can come up with involve wigs and stillettos?

It turns out that Anna Deavere Smith was on campus this week (who knew?), and I was lucky enough to be allowed to sneak in for free. Now, Anna Deavere Smith, fantastic performer though she is, does not deal with queer themes, expressly. The piece of hers with which I am most familiar is Fires in the Mirror, which addresses the Crown Heights race riots in 1991. Though she doesn't write about queer stuff, her plays are very queer in their methodology. Anna Deavere Smith composes her plays by conducting a series of interviews, transcribing these interviews, and arranging them in some sort of dramatic fashion. Smith doesn't actually write her own material, she has made a living stealing and publishing other people's stories.

Did I mention that she performs all of her pieces, a series of dramatic monologues, as one-woman shows? And that she is a phenomenal actress?

And yet, dear readers, her pieces are absolutely breathtaking, both in their simplicity and their emotional scope. She said something tonight (forgive me for the inevitable misquote) along the lines of "I decided I wanted to take on America and let America take me on." She placed herself in line with Whitman in the way that her work tries to grapple with what it means to be American (this is a connection I'm not totally sure I buy, but I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt). She has a remarkable talent for settling into the messiness/downright horror of the everyday, setting up camp there, and then dragging her readers (at times willingly, at times kicking and screaming) into this mess. Because of the organic nature of her source material, Smith doesn't offer artificial conclusions or really even gesture toward premeditated answers. She is however, downright surgical in her ability to extract answers (along with additional problems) from the seemingly simple stories of her interviewees, some of which are American, others not.

Smith's queer methodology raises a lot of questions, which I think I'll hold off on for now, for fear of losing my Idaho-an (or does Idaho function as both name and descriptor?) accent, but expect this post to have a sequel.

Fires in the Mirror is on youtube. Check it out.
Also, it's my mother's birthday. It seems rude to shame her publicly on her birthday and not mention it. Happy Birthday PJ!