EDOUARD LEVÉ
AUTOPORTRAIT Edouard Leve translated by Lorin Stein
Originally published in French as Autoportrait by P.O.L editeur, 2005 Copyright © 2005 by P.O.L editeur Translation copyright © 2012 by Lorin Stein First edition, 2012 All rights reserved Library ofCongress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Leve, Edouard. [Autoportrait. English) Autoportrait! Edouard Leve ; translated by Lorin Stein. -- 1st ed. p.cm. Originally published in French as Autoportrait by P.O.L. editeur, 2005 ISBN 978-1-56478-707-1 (pbk. : alk. paper) I. Stein, Lorin. II. Title. PQ2712.E87Z4613 2012 843’.92--dc23 2011041213 Partially funded by a grant from the Illinois Arts Council, a state agency, and by the University ofIllinois at Urbana-Champaign
EDOUARD LEVÉ
When I was young, I thought Life A User’s Manual would teach me how to live and Suicide A User’s Manual how todie. I have leaves me with a sad aftertaste, the same as the end of a novel. I forget things I don’t like. I may have spoken, without knowing listen to what people are saying. I am surprised when someone gives me a nickname and we hardly know each other. I am slow I was two. Competition does not fiction. The ready-made films of Jean-Marc Chapoulie have made me laugh harder than the bes summer brings back happy childhood memories. I am bad at throwing. There was a compulsive collector in my family, at her deat the sages will be lost I once tried to make a book-museum of vernacular writing, it reproduced handwritten messages from unkn money in the meter, desperate appeals for witnesses, announcements of a change in management, office messages, home mes I have thought, listening to the son of an American black radical talk, “This man is a ready-made.” I have thought, seeing a man w the straightforward sound of a paper bag but not of a plastic bag, which fidgets. I have heard but never seen fruit fall from the br ner, never sets out serving dishes but arranges the food on plates like a restaurant, so there’s no way to have seconds. I have liv traveling are funnier in the telling than my good ones. It disconcerts me that a child should address me as “monsieur:’ A SWinger less to pictures than to memories. I have never regretted saying what I really thought. Love stories bore me. I never tell my own. I to meet me in a distant country after a month and a half apart, I had it. I do not know the green boys. In the store windows of 1had an idea for a Dream Museum. I havea tendency, because it’s eabreathes heavily, or steals the covers. I can sleep with m sier, to call people “friends” who aren’t, I can’t think of another word for people “friends” who aren’t, I can’t think of another word people whom know and like but with whom I have special connection. I traveled in a train compartment with a Swiss man whom years, I knew I would never see him again, he was an ear without repercussions. I have sometimes been suspicious. Looking at old money well spent. I like certain uniforms not as symbols, but for their functional sobriety. I will sometimes announce good new I am not handsome. I am not ugly. From certain angles, tanned and wearing a black shirt, I can find myself handsome. I find myse than straight on. I like my eyes, my hands, my forehead, my ass, my arms, my skin, I do not like my thighs, my elbows, my chin, my The left side ofmy face looks nothing like the right. I like my voice after a night out or when I have a cold. I don’t need anything. I to shave. I have no interest in awards, I have no respect for distinctions, I don’t care what I’m paid. I am drawn to strange people. questions of people I think I will never see again. Some day I will wear black cowboy boots with a purple velvet suit. To me the sme person I’vejust met. I’m not ashamed ofmy family, but I do not invite them to my openings. I have often been in love. I love myself thinks so. My intelligence is uneven. My amorous states resemble each other, and those of other people, more than my works re bank account. A friend once remarked that I seem glad when guests show up at my house but also when they leave. I begin mor I do not know the green boys. In the store windows of English-speaking countries, I read the word sale dirty in French. I canno heavily, or steals the covers. I can sleep with my arms around someone who doesn’t move. 1had an idea for a Dream Museum. I ha aren’t, I can’t think of another word for people whom know and like but with whom I have no special connection.On the train, face
Presents make me feel awkward, whether I am the giver or the receiver, unless they are the right ones, which is rare. Love has gi myself, whose obscene novelty disgusts me. I am not ill. I go to the doctor no more than once a year. I am nearSighted and slightly diving, a teacher led me down six meters in a few seconds, my left ear popped, back on the surface I had lost my sense of balanc I do not know the names of flowers. I recognize the chestnut tree, the lime tree, the poplar, the willow, the weeping willow, the oa fig, the cedar, the sequoia, the baobab, the palm tree, the coconut, the live oak, the maple, the olive. I can name, but do not recog neons, a fish striped yellow and black and shaped like a snake, and other aquarium fish whose names I have forgotten. I had a fem round. A woman friend whose English isn’t good heard C’est quelque chose for “Set in your shoes” in the song “Let’s Groove:’ At ti had to say Scorlipochon one two three four five six seven eight nine ten while he was tickling me. One of my uncles had a taste for at the beach, he would pounce yelling and drooling on a sunbathing woman, he’d ask questions using nonexistent words of the f up at arty Airport, he went to the casino until he was definitively and cheerfully banned, he tried to win back the leases of nightclu
spent three years and three months abroad. I prefer to look to my left. I have a friend who gets off on betrayal The end of a trip g it, to someone who killed someone. I look down dead-end streets. I am not afraid ofwhat comes at the end of life. I don’t really to notice when someone mistreats me, it’s always so surprising: evil is somehow unreal. I archive. I spoke to Salvador Dali when st comedies. I have attempted suicide once, I’ve been tempted four times to attempt it. The distant sound of a lawn mower in th they found a shoebox labeled in painstaking calligraphy: “Little bits of string that have no use: I do not believe the wisdom of nown people, classed by type: fIyers about lost animals, justifications left on windshields for parking cops so as to avoid putting ssages, messages to oneself. I have thought, listening to an old man tell me his life story, “This man is a museum ofhimself: who had wasted away, “This man is a ghost of himself’ My parents went to the movies every Friday night until they got a TV. I like ranch. Proper names fascinate me because I don’t know what they mean. I have a friend who, when he has people over for dinved for several years without insurance. I sometimes feel uneasier around a nice person than a mean one. Myworst memories of rs’ club was the first place I ever saw people make love in front ofme. I have not masturbated in front of a woman. I masturbate I don’t talk much about women I go out with, but tlike hearing my friends talk about the women they go out with. Awoman came
English-speaking countries, I read the word sale (dirty) in French. I cannot sleep beside someone who moves around, snores, my arms around someone who doesn’t move. 1had an idea for a Dream Museum. I have a tendency, because it’s easier, to call for people whom know and like but with whom I have no special connection.On the train, face backward, I don’t see the things. m I didn’t know, we were crossing the plains of Kerala, I told him more about myself in several hours than I had told my friends in several d photos leads me to believe that the body evolves. I reproach others for what they reproach in me. I am not stingy, I admire ws, concerning myself, to someone I like and be shocked to realize that he’s jealous. I would not like to have famous parents. elf ugly more often than handsome. The times I find myself handsome are not the times I like to be. I find myself uglier in profile y ears, the curve at the back of my neck, my nostrils from below, I have no opinion about my dick. My face is asymmetrical. am not looking to seduce a wearer of Birkenstocks. I do not like the big toe. I wish I had no 10 nails. I wish I had no beard . I feel sympathy for the unlucky. I do not like paternalism. I feel more at ease with the old than with the young. I can ask endless ell of manure recalls a bygone era, whereas the smell of wet earth evokes no particular time. I can’t remember the name ofa less than I have been loved. I am surprised when someone loves me. I do not consider myself handsome just because a woman esemble each other, or those of other people. I find something pleasant in the pain of a fading love. I have never had a shared re than I finish. I show up at people’s houses more easily than. ot sleep beside someone who moves around, snores, breathes I don’t talk much about women I go out with, but tlike hearave a tendency, because it’s easier, to call people “friends” who ing my friends talk about the women they like. I knew backward, I don’t see the things. I’ve been tempted four tim es would never see him again, he was an ear without cussions. I have trouble understanding why people give stupid presents. iven me great pleasure but takes up too much time. As the surgeons scalpel reveals my organs, love introduces other versions of astigmatic. I have never kissed a lover in front of my parents. In Corsica some friends took me to a beginners’ class in underwater ce, since then whenever I’m in an airplane I feel a needle pricking my inner ear until, all at once, the air rushes out ofmy ear drum. ak, the chestnut, the pine, the fir, the beech, the sycamore, the hazelnut, the apple, the cherry, the lilac, 12 the plum, the pear, the gnize, the ash, the aspen, the spindle tree, the strawberry tree, the bougainvillea, the catalpa. I have kept guppies, Sumatran brill, male hamster called Pirouette because she loved her turquoise plastic wheel and ran so fast in it that it would spin her all the way imes I have run down dark paths. An uncle would play Scorlipochon One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten with me, I scandal andpranks, he’d shoplift just for fun, he would buy Hara-Kiri magazine and let me read it, he would pretend to be retarded farmer’s wife who lived down the road, he would call strangers on the phone and pretend they had a snake waiting to be picked ubs that his father had won at poker and he ended up getting drunk when the mafioso landlords plied him with champagne.
DESCRIPTION AND QUOTE:
In this brilliant and sober-
ing self-p o r t r a i t , Edouard LevĂŠ h i d e s n o t h i n g f ro m h i s r e a d e r s , s e t t i n g ou t his e n t i r e l i f e , m o r e o r less at random, in a string of d e cla r at i ve s e n d e a n e . tences. A u t o p o r traitis a p hy s i c a l , psychological, s e x u a l , u s e , political, and philosophical, mental triumph.
When I was young, I thought Life A I look down dead-end streets. I am User’s Manual would teach me how to live and Suicide A User’s Manual how to die. I have spent three years and three months abroad. I prefer to look to my left. I have a friend who gets off on betrayal The end of a trip leaves me with a sad aftertaste, the same as the end of a novel. I forget things I don’t like. I may have spoken, without know it, to someone who killed someone, and the sadness one must feel at be numb.
not afraid ofwhat comes at the end of life. I don’t really listen to what people are saying. I am surprised when someone gives me a nickname and we hardly know each other. I am slow to notice when someone mistreats me, it’s always so surprising: evil is somehow unreal. I archive. I spoke to Salvador Dali when I was two. Competition does not drive me. To describe my life precisely would take longer than to live it.
My rap sheet is dean. I wish a season lasted a week. I would rather be bored alone than with someone else. I wander empty places and eat in deserted restaurants. When it comes to food, I prefer the savor y to the sweet, the raw to the cooked, the hard to the soft, the cold to the hot, the aromatic to the odorless. I cannot sit still and write unless there is food in the refrigerator. I can easily go without drinking or smoking. In a foreign country.
I hesitate to laugh when my interlocutor burps while we are talking. I notice gray hair on people too young to have it. It ’s bet ter for me not to read medical textbooks, especially passages describing the symptoms of some illness: no sooner do I find out one exists than I detect it in myself. War seems so unreal to me I have trouble believing myfather was in one. I have seen a man who expressed one thing with the left side of his face and something else.
I am not sure I love New York. I do not say “A is better than B” but I will prefer A to B: never stop comparing. When I am coming back from a trip, the best part isn’t going through the airport or getting home, but the taxi ride in between: you’re still traveling, but not really. I sing badly, so I don’t sing. Because I am funny people think I’m happy. I want never to find an ear in a meadow. I am no fonder of words than ofa hammer or a vise. I do not know the green boys.
In the store windows of Englishspeaking countries, I read the word sale (dirty) in French. I cannot sleep beside someone who moves around, snores, breathes heavily, or steals the covers. I can sleep with my arms around someone who doesn’t move. 1had an idea for a Dream Museum. I have a tendency, because it’s easier, call people “friends” who aren’t, I can’t think of another word for people whom I know and like but with whom I have no special connection.
On the train, facing backward, I don’t see things coming, only going. I am not saving for my retirement. I consider the best part of the sock to be the hole. I do not keep track of how much money is in my bank account. My bank account is rarely in the red. Shoah, Numero zero, Titicut Follies, and La Conquete de Clichy have affected me more than the best works of fiction. The readymade films of Chapouliehave made me laugh harder than the best comedies.
I’ve been tempted four times to attempt it. The distant sound of a lawn mower in summer brings back happy childhood memories. I am bad at throwing. There was a compulsive collector in my family, at her death they found a shoebox labeled in painstaking calligraphy: “Little bits of string that have no use:’ I do not believe the wisdom of the sages will be lost I oncetried to make a bookmuseum of vernacular writing, it reproduced handwritten messages.
People classed by type: fIyers about lost animals, justifications left on windshields for parking cops so as to avoid putting money in the meter, desperate appeals for witnesses, announcements of a change in management, office messages, home messages, messages to oneself. I have thought, listening to an old man tell me his life story, “This man is a museum ofhimself: I have thought, listening to the son of an American black radical talk, “This man is a ready-made.”
I have thought, seeing a man who
had wasted away, “This man is a ghost of himself’ My parents went to the movies every Friday night until they got a TV. I like the straightforward sound of a paper bag but not of a plastic bag, which fidgets. I have heard but never seen fruit fall from the branch. Proper names fascinate me because I don’t know what they mean. I have a friend who, when he has people over for dinner, never sets out serving dishes.
But arranges the food on plates like a restaurant, so there’s no way to have seconds. I have lived for several years without insurance. I sometimes feel uneasier around a nice person than a mean one. Myworst memories of traveling are funnier in the telling than my good ones. It disconcerts me that a child should address me as monsieur? A swingers’ club was the first place I ever saw people make love in front of me.
I am not stingy, I admire money we l l s p e nt . I l i ke c e r t a i n u n i fo r m s n ot a s s y m b o l s , b u t fo r their func tional s o b r i et y. I w i l l sometimes announce good news, concerning myself, to someone I l i ke a n d b e s h o c ke d t o re a l i ze that he’s jealous. I would not l i ke t o h ave f a m o u s p a re nt s . I am not handsome. I am not ugly. From certain angles, tanned and wearing a black shirt, I can find myself handsome.
In India, I traveled in a train compartment with a Swiss man whom I didn’t know, we were crossing the plains of Kerala, I told him more about myself in several hours than I had told mybest friends in several years, I knew I would never see him again, he was an ear without repercussions. I have sometimes been suspicious . Looking at old photos leads me to believe that the body evolves. I reproach others for what they reproach in me.
I have not masturbated in front of a woman. I masturbate less to pictures than to memories. I have never regretted saying what I really thought. Love stories bore me. I never tell my own. I don’t talk much about women I go out with, but tlike hearing my friends talk about the women they go out with. Awoman came to meet me in a distant country after a month and a half apart, I hadn’t missed her, within seconds I realized I didn’ t love her anymore.
I find myself uglier in profile than straight on. I like my eyes, my hands, my forehead, my ass, my arms, my skin, I do not like my thighs, my elbows, my chin, my ears, the curve at the back of my neck, my nostrils from below, I have no opinion about my dick. My face is asymmetrical. The left side of my face looks nothing like the right. I like my voice after a night out or when I have a cold. I don’t need anything. I am not looking to seduce a wearer of Birkenstocks. I do not like the big toe.
I wish I had no nails. I wish I had no beard to shave. I have no interest inawards, I have no respect for distinctions, I don’t care what I ’m paid. I am drawn to strange people. I feel sympathy for the unlucky. I do not like paternalism. I feel more at ease with the old than with the young. I can ask endless questions of people I think I will never see again. Some day I will wear black cowboy boots with a purple velvet suit.
I can’ t remember t h e n a m e of a p e r s o n I ’ ve ju s t m et . I ’m n ot ashamed of my family, but I do not invite them to my openings. I have often been in love. I love myself less than I have been loved. I am surprised when someone loves me. I do not consider myselfhandsome just because a woman thinks so. My intelligence is uneven. My amorous states resemble each other, and those of other people, more than my works resemble.
Each other, or those of other
people. I find something pleasant in the pain of a fading love. I have never had a shared bank account. A friend once remarked that I seem glad when guests s h o w u p a t m y h o u s e b u t i am a l s o w h e n t h ey l e ave . I b e g i n m o r e than I finish. I show up at peop l e ’ s houses more easil y than I leave. I do not know how to interrupt an interlocu tor who b o re s m e . I will gorge on an all-youcan-eat buf fet to the point of nausea . I have I love summer r a i n . O t h e r p e o p l e’s f a i lu re s make me sadder than my own. I do not rejoice in my enemies’ failures . I have trouble underst anding why people give stup i d p re s e nt s . P re s e nt s m a ke me feel awkward, whether I am the giver or the receiver, unless they are the right ones , which is rare . A teacher led allme down six t y on m e t e r s i n a f e w s e c o n d s , my left ear popped, back o n t h e s u r f a c e I h a d l o s t my s e n s e of b a l a n c e , s i n c e then w he neve r I ’m in an airplane I feel a needle pricking my inner e a r u n t i l , a l l a t o n c e , the air rushes out ofmy ear d r u m . I do not know the names of flowers. I recognize the c h e s tnut tree, the lime tree, the poplar, the willow.I feel so bad about it.
I can’ t remember the name of a p e r s o n I ’ ve ju s t m et . I ’m n ot ashamed of my family, but I do not invite them to my openings. I have often been in love. I love myself less than I have been loved. I am surprised when someone loves me. I do not consider myselfhandsome just because a woman thinks so. My intelligence is uneven. My amorous states resemble each other, and those of other people, more than my works resemble.
The weeping willow, the oak ,
the chestnut, the pine, the fire, t h e b e e c h , t h e s yc a m o re , t h e hazelnut, the apple, the cherr y, the lilac, the plum, the pear, the fig, the cedar, the sequoia, the baobab, the palm tree, the coconut , the live oak , the maple, the olive. I can name, but do not recognize, the ash, the aspen, the spindle tree, the strawberr y tree, the bougainvillea, the catalpa. I have kept guppies.
Love has given me great pleasure but takes up too much time. As the surgeons scalpel reveals my organs, love introduces other versions of myself, whose obscene nove l t y d i s g u s t s m e . I a m n ot i l l . I g o t o t h e d o c t o r n o m o r e t h a n once a ye a r. I a m n e a r S i g h t e d a n d slightly astigmatic. I have never k i s s e d a l ove r i n f ro nt of my parents. In Corsica some friends took me to a beginners . Sumatran brill, neons, a fish striped ye l l ow a n d b l a c k a n d shaped like a snake, and other aquarium fish whose names I have forgotten. I had a female hamster called P i r o u et t e b e c au s e sh e l ove d her turquoise plastic wheel and ran so fast in it that it would spin her all the way round. A woman friend whose English isn’t good heard C’est quelque chose for “S et in your shoes” in the song “ Let ’s Groove:’ At times I have.
Run down dark paths. An uncle
At the beach, he would pounce yelling and drooling on a sunbathing woman, he’d ask q u e s t i o n s u s i n g n o n ex i s t e nt words of the farmer ’s wife who lived down the road, he would call strangers on the phone and pre tend they had a snake waiting to be picked up at ar t y Airpor t , he went to the casino until he was definitively and cheer fully banned, he tried to w i n b a c k t h e l e a s e s of n i g h t .
C l u b t h a t h i s f at h e r h a d wo n at poker and he ended up g et t i n g d r u n k w h e n t h e m a fioso landlords plied him with champagne. I wonder how I wo u l d b e h ave u n d e r t o r t u re . At a museum I look at people w i t h t h e eye s of a n a r t i s t , i n the street with my own. I know four names for God. A friend told me that to yawn four times wa s t h e e q u i va l e nt of f i f t e e n m i nu t e s’ s l e e p .
I’ve often tried this without not-
I have seen estuaries , coast s , islands, continents. I have seen caves, canyons, fairy hats. I have seen deser ts, beaches, dunes. I have seen the sun and the moon. I h ave s e e n s t a r s , c o m et s , a n eclipse. I have seen the Milk y Way. I am no longer ten years old. I have never believed that you could see a dahu. I wonder if there are blasphemers of Satan, and if to blaspheme against him is a sin, from his point of view.
But also from God’s. Monsters interest me. When I see the words “code PIN OK” on French bank machines, I read it as “code Pinoquet:’ Solitude helps me be consistent . A friend of my parent s was fifty before she learned that there is no such thing as elbow g re a s e . I d i d n ot k n ow h ow t o answer when a grown-up asked, “Is that lie really true? ” I forced myself to smile when a grown-up said, “Go see if I’m over there.
wo u l d p l ay S c o r l i p o c h o n O n e Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten with me, I had to say S corlipochon one t wo three four five six seven eight nine ten while he was tickling m e . O n e of my u n c l e s h a d a t aste for scandal and pranks , he’d shoplif t just for fun, he would buy Hara-Kiri maga zine and let me read it , he would pretend to be ret arded.
ing any benefits. I have known climates that went from twentyf i ve b e l ow t o o ve r fo r t y -f i ve degrees Celsius. I have met C a t h o l i c s , P r o t e s t a n t s , M o rm o n s , J ew s , M u s l i m s , H i n d u s , B u d d h i s t s , A m i s h , J e h ova h’s Witnesses, Scientologists. I have seen ear th, mount ains , and sea. I have seen lakes, rivers, creeks, brooks, torrents, waterfalls. I have seen volcanoes .
My father walked in on me making love to a woman, when he knocked I said without thinking, “ C o m e i n blushing, he quickly backed out and dosed the door, when my girlfriend tried to slip away, he went up to her and said, “Come back whenever you like, mademoiselle Like most people, I have no idea where the city I live in got its name. One of my uncles died of AIDS soon after the art gallery in which he’d invested all his money went out of business.
My father is funny. My mother
loves me without smothering me. I discovered “dirty pictures” in a little blue pamphlet which described certain sins and which a priest had given me before my first confession to help me remember the ones I might have committed. I attended a school that employed several pedophiles, but I was not among their victims. One of my schoolmates, at age twelve, was followed by an old man.
Into a stairwell, where he dragged him into a basement to have his way with him. The dog b e l o n g i n g t o a friend of mine disfigured his best friend when my friend was four teen. I have never missed a flight that then ex p l o d e d i n m i d - a i r. I a l m o s t killed three passengers in my car by looldng for a cassette in the glove c o m p a r t m e n t w h i l e I wa s going one - eight yon the highway from Paris to Re i m s .
One of my uncles met the love of his life while driving his red convertible slowly through the streets of Paris, the man in question, a Hungarian immigrant, was in despair, wandering aimlessly and about to kill himself, my uncle pulled up next to him and asked where he was headed, they never par ted until death came between them. My uncle’s friend taught me to laugh at things I saw on TV that were not, on the face of it, funny, for example.
Bobby Ewing’s hairstyle on Dallas. I have not signed a manifesto. If I turn around while looking in the mirror, t h e re c o m e s a m o m e nt when I no longer see myself. Raymond Poulidor is one of t h e l e a s t s ex y names I know. I like salad mainly for the crunch and the vinaigrette. I do not like to hear people quote bans mots, especially those of Sacha Guitry. I delight in the wrapping six t y paper before acceding to.
V i s i ti ng c hu rc h e s b o re s m e ,
I wonder whether, apar t from a few specialists, anybody enjoys it ver y much. I do not know the names of the stars. I often plan to learn long texts by heart in order to boost mymemory. I see fantastical beings in the douds. I have never seen a geyser, an atoll, an undersea trench. I have never done time in prison. I like dim lights. I have never filed a complaint with the police. I have never beenburgled. My father walked in on me making love to a woman, when he knocked I said without thinking, “Come in blushing, he quickly backed out and dosed the door, when my girlfriend tried to slip away, he went up to her and said, “Come back whenever you like, mademoiselle Like most people, I have no idea where the city I live in got its name. One of my uncles died of AIDS soon after the art gallery in which he’d invested all his money went out of business.
When I was twelve, I took the metro with three classmates, a stranger my age bent my arm behind my back, another about fifteen years old kicked me in the face, I fell down, when I got up he was about to give me another kick, so I pretended to be in more pain than I was, grabbing my face with both hands and screaming as if he’d smashed it in, the attackers got scared and ran away, at which pointmythree “friends;’ who’d been standing there three meters away, ran up to me, I noticed the face of one.
Had gone white with cowardice. My parents vdo not ask me enough questions. I once went into a prison where I was taking pictures ofthe inmates, in Rome, New York, guard stopped me, he took me to the assistant warden, my film was confiscated, it also included photos of Jehovah’s Witnesses taken in Paris, New York. I have sold works to collectors from France, Austria, Spain, Germany, Italy, America, and possibly other countries. If over time a woman I’m seeing starts to use.
I wish there were regions where
every day was the same day of the week, I could decide to go spend five Mondays in one city and eight Saturdays in another. I wish there was a city where everyone was named Jean or Jeanne, it would be called Jeanville. Names draw me to places, but bodies draw me to people. I forget that certain names of objects refer to actions, for example “watch:’ I wonder whether anyone besides old people like riot police.
I fet i sh i ze h a n d w r i t i n g . W h e n I choose postcards from a p l a c e , I am tempted to var y the pictures, r at h e r t h a n p i c k i n g s e ve r a l w i t h the best pic ture, which is absurd, since they’re all going to different addressees . When I write several postcards on the same day, I force myself not to describe the same events, as if the addressees might one day realize that I had written the same p o s t c a rd s e ve r a l t i m e s ove r. I h ave t a ke n a r i d e t h ro u g h .
The ravines of the Golden Triangle on the back of a blind elephant who found his way by feeling around with his feet. My brother builds. I mistakenly studied difficult subjects that were no use to me when I might have studied the arts for pleasure, which would have smoothed my path. I am happy to be happy, I am sad to be sad, but I can also be happy to be sad and sad to be happy. Lack of sleep bothers me less on a sunny day than when it rains.
I f i n d someone b e a u t i f u l
r e gardless of the moment, b u t I d o n’ t a l way s f i n d my s e l f handsome, therefore I am not . I sometimes talk to my dick, addressing it by it s first name. I appreciate the mowed-hay smell of Levi’s 50ls. I do not tell stories b e c au s e I fo r g et t h e p e o p l e’s names , I repor t the event s out of order and do not set up the punch line. On trips I surprise myself, for example I decide.
At a moment I did not expect that the trip is over. With a Dictaphone I write easily while thinking of something else. I have written several love letters but no breakup letters, I s ave d t h at j o b fo r my vo i c e . I would rather paint chewing gum up close than Versailles from far away. I touch white for luck. I do not have aweekend place because I d o n’ t l i ke t o o p e n a n d t h e n close a whole lot ofshut ters over the course of t wo days.
I would pay someone to air out,
heat, and clean a country house before I came to stay, so I could have the feeling thatsomeone lived there. Although I am selfemployed, I observe the weekend. My surname is ridiculous, but I am fond of it, I even teach it to people who don’t know it. I pack my luggage by making a list of all the things I will take, and since I always take the same things I keep the list in a file on my computer.
In th is br illi an t an d so be ri ng self-por trai t, Ed ouar d Levé hide s no th in g fr om hi s read er s, se tt in g ou t hi s en ti re li fe , more or le ss at ra ndom , in a stri ng of decl arativ e se nt ence s. Autopo rt rait is a p hysical , psychological, sexual , poli ti cal, an d phil osop hi ca l tr iump h. Beyo nd “s in ceri ty ,” Levé wo rk s toward an ob je ctivit y so ra di ca l it co ul d pass fo r cr uden ess, triv iali ty , ev en bana li ty ; th e author ha s stri pped hims el f bare . With th e fo rc e of a se t of ma xims or moral s, Levé ’s pr os e se em s at fi rs t to be an auto biog ra ph y with ou t se nt imen t, as th ough writ te n by a mach in e — un ti l, th ro ug h th e accu mula ti on of de ta il , an d th e author ’s dr y, quiz zica l to ne , we fi nd ou rs el ve s bemu sed, di sar med , en th ra lled , an d fi na ll y en rapt ur ed by no th in g le ss than th e pe rf ec t fi ct io n…made en ti re ly of facts.
“Lev é writes beau tifu l abou t th e si mple st moment s, re minding us bo th of th e ple as ur es of li fe an d th e sa dn es s on e mu st fe el at bein g numb to th em .” —BOMB