Irreality.September 13, 2008 at 7:56 pm | Posted in writing | 28 Comments
Discussion continues around the pool that every writer’s voice is an artificial construct, she says, crossing her long legs and wriggling her toes. The Japanese pornographer is indulging in what is known as cos play. She is dressed as her favourite anime character. She is wearing a very short metallic silver skirt and a silver wig and her wild eyes are framed in purple.
Well, it’s still largely a question of consent, isn’t it? They know at least that this character is not you.
Haha, scratching the top of one perfectly pedicured foot with the toes of the other. How many drunks have you tattooed this week? Did the man in the lift on Wednesday consent to you lifting his wallet? And what of the lipstick cameras in the guest room, McPaulus?
Well, they are men. I expect them to be able to defend themselves, he says gazing across the pool and remembering Martha Street, Paddington, his terrible handwriting like some hieroglyph code and Robert dying in the bathroom not even getting the needle out of his arm. Remembering stealing loaves of bread and knowing the shopkeeper knew but consented as an act of charity. Remembering being homeless for two weeks and being so ashamed that he had never told anyone until right now, telling you this, something noone has known before.
Consent is an illusion, she says, finishing her martini and clicking her fingers at the pool boy for another. It’s just a comforter for you, a way of avoiding taking responsibility for your power. Even when they offer their consent, how can you know that they understand? Every magician’s voice is an artificial construct and while you know that there is a ‘you’, they have only the code to disentangle filtered through their own languages and needs.
He doesn’t hear her. His attention has been taken by the young couple arriving at the pool. Newlyweds, contained in their own world. She is wearing a diamond necklace and the young man obviously is spending his father’s money. McPaulus looks at his watch. The Japanese pornographer smiles. Life continues.