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SUB: I hate to ask, but you know everyone is wondering: Did the militant dyke introduce you to the pleasures of Sapphism? PZB: No, the militant dyke taught me that you couldn't be friends with a gay person of your own gender without everyone assuming that the gay person is only interested in seducing you. Especially if you're 14, as I was. My mother, an eminently sensible and unprejudiced woman, had no problem with the friendship. But my few friends who were my age couldn't believe I was willing to hang out with "people like that." You know, "Aren't you scared she'll try something?" Don't straight people FLATTER themselves with that shit? SUB: Yes, they do. But getting back to your influences: Why John and not Paul? PZB: Why does it have to be an either-or thing? I'm not a big fan of Tom Robbins, but I like the bit in STILL LIFE WITH WOODPECKER about the Beatles personality test, how the Beatles are archetypes and your favorite Beatle reveals who you truly are. I gave my husband the test years ago, and he couldn't decide between John and Ringo. I told him that meant he wished he was an anarchist but he was really just a dork. I love my husband dearly, he's my best friend and my anchor, but anyone who knows him knows that that suits him to a T. He admits it himself. So I think your Beatle archetype is as inescapable as your sun sign, but you aren't just influenced by your sun sign. You've got moons and ascendants and all that too. (And for anyone who thinks I've finally gone completely around the bend, I don't advise taking any of this too seriously.) My friend David interprets the archetypes a different way. He says that if the Beatles are your family, then John's your father, Paul's your mother, Ringo's your goofy kid brother, George is ... I don't know, your nutty maiden aunt maybe. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream that seemed to bear this out, and kept me happy for days. Paul McCartney came to my house, picked me up in his arms, set me on his lap, and put his finger in my mouth to count my teeth. I had no idea why he wanted to do this, but as I snuggled into his lap and sucked on his bass-callused finger, I felt as safe and comfortable as a tiny child. Later, he stood at my cupboard searching for tea, and as I looked at the muscles of his back through his tight black T-shirt (the one from the Bahamas scenes in HELP!), I thought that he was not old and wrinkly, but still young and broad-shouldered and strong. I started to cry because I suddenly realized it was a dream and I didn't want to wake up, and then I picked up a block of greasy red clay that belonged to an artist character in Ramsey Campbell's novel THE FACE THAT MUST DIE, and the nasty feeling of it squeezing through my fingers woke me up. SUB: That's very ... strange. PZB: All my dreams about Ramsey seem to involve clay. I've had several. Not that this dream was about him per se, but as soon as I picked up that clay, I knew it was his. But don't read too much into it. The fact is that I was trying to plan a trip to England at the time, and I was going to stay with Ramsey and his wife in Liverpool, and I was worried that I couldn't afford the trip. And I'd just re-read THE FACE THAT MUST DIE for the millionth time. I'm sure it had something to do with all that. SUB: You've said you started reading Campbell's work at 13, the same age at which you started listening to the Beatles. Any connection? PZB: Only that they're both from Liverpool and their work helped to convince me that the influence of psychedelic drugs wasn't necessarily a bad thing. And some of the good drugs that Ramsey was getting back then might have been coming into Liverpool because of the indirect influence of the Beatles. That's about as far as I want to go with that. SUB: Fair enough. Do you mind if I ask how you feel about recreational drugs now? PZB: Personally, the only thing I do on a regular basis is smoke a little pot, and I've even cut way back on that. You can't enjoy it as much if you do it all the time. I don't like hallucinogens any more; among other things, I associate them with an ex I'd really like to forget. But I think all drugs should be legalized. I've done pretty much everything, and I've never encountered a drug more destructive than alcohol, but its availability hasn't sundered the fabric of our society yet. Why create a class of "criminals" whose only crime is smoking a doob? SUB: You're dating yourself with that terminology. PZB: It isn't really the terminology of my generation, is it? I like hanging out with old hippies. |
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