Tomi Ungerer’s description of Barbie dolls as ambiguous sexless brainless machines, without nipples or apertures: the American ideal.

and I think: iDoll???

Back firmly, formally, in the trap of naming, of bringing to life, and as such I may play God for a while. This is the place that itches, that refuses not to itch. The naming game: It is we who set the picket fences. We who move them at will. I catch myself thinking it would be a shame if God really were so arbitrary. And I scratch this itch in so many ways, as recently with my supervisor:

how to class the literary opinions of people like Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie and others (e.g. Brossard) who not only write literature but about literature? Are they scholars? May I put them on that pedestal, or are they ‘only’ writers? I guess my question is: who is a member of the club?

I keep setting up these borders, keep being told to:

we need them for conceptual clarity

but somehow their contents won’t stay put. That’s worth remembering…