Lisa Robertson places the above quote from Mina Loy at the beginning of Debbie an Epic–which you’ve all read, right? It is a direct address to you women:

Rhetors, Travellers, Neighbours, I’ve Been
thinking–yours are names I’d like to wear in
my lungs. All grace and catharsis you pull
thought across, and this stuff, this dignity
and doubt and tenderness pumping over
your flesh shows you exquisite. Since pari
ty is your minimum take this swank kiss:

This goes out to the women who read Lemon Hound and other blogs. Those who don’t comment, don’t enter into public discourse. What would it be like to make the world your salon? To be as comfortable with one’s opinion at a conference table, or weblog, or otherwise, filled with experts (all men of course, with endless commentary designed to undermine your place at said table), as one is sitting across from friends in one’s living room, a cup of tea and endless streams of commentary about everything from the design of the cup in hand, to the possibilities of poetry as a political tool, and so on?

Looking at the media surfaces, the illuminations on the net and elsewhere, I tire of seeing women commenting on commentary, or the style sections of newspapers, as adornment, as fluff. Note on the side bar a new list building. That of the she-blog, or other-blog. The voices outside the dominant streams of things. May it build. May it bite. What if Susan Sontag had blogged? What if Gertrude Stein or Mina Loy had blogged?

Make the world your salon.

* Note regarding fluff. What I meant by that statement is that women get to do “fluff” or be “fluff” easily enough. Check the commentary postings on the Globe and Mail over a week, you’ll see it’s largely men who get to have opinions about things, unless it’s to do with a toaster, or pumps… I like pumps, you like pumps, but I wouldn’t mind seeing women invited to comment on Afghanistan, climate change, the sinking loonie, and so on…