archive interview with Duffy 1999 

_ Paris magazine_ Orpheus Transit.

I._ When you first went to live inthe street of Amsterdam was it voluntary?Or was this determined by the notion of scarcity and the idea of village between the paths of dialect and molecule? 

C.D. __________________________________________________________No, not really my lover, the one from the Nethernet_erlands basically left me high and dry. 

And in desperation I became a street person, or street saunterer.Not a fun place to be! With nowhere to put my books! and clothes. She was peeved at me because of this difference about what a sex ought to be... She was cute, and naive, I corrected her , she went beserk, cancelling our love duet---t , and not literary took_ all this personally. Then we become fucklovers on the welfed avenues of Europe. 

I got pregnant and she wished she was my dog, or cat . Say. then I went to live with Paris.

 She had a chariot. She was good with the whip. Fancy that. I wasa literay star with books in the libraries of Lutece. I._ You mean a street person, literally or internetedly? lost in the blogsphere? the web? the internaut of nomad on a fine piece of territory? 

C.D._ As someone once said I mean it literally and in all senses of the word.

 I._ After you won the prize what were your thoughts? 

C.D. I thought O, good I can go live near the place where whats his name painted. 

I._ Did you take the winter seminar with Alliez?  (she means Guattari seminars 80's)

 C.D. that was when I received the Canada Council grant for second book of a writer in the third place of the fouth union and the secondary mentions as well as publication in a juried major out of Canada literary type of magazine. Some bureaucratic crapola. However, having mumbled off that mouthful I must say it was fun living in London before things went haywire and my g_f. of that time died. You dig? Then she left me some weird ideas in her will and lasting testament. Like she said, it might be an idea for me to consider settling in Amsterdam with her best and oldest friend. Which I did, for a year. Then went back. To truer becomings which simply meant no commitments before 330 in the afternoon. You know when Iw as in my 30s and 40s I had at least what? five books and two won awards. I really did get bored. What difference does it make that critical essays or master's students wrote an essay about this work? she had said to me, Kathy _ it was all the same to her self. 

A text of that sort meant no wheels turning in the night. So yes, I did live with someone who was almost, you could say, her double. It was spooky. Once we had phone sex, and she said tell me yer fantasy. I had none. Or I was ashamed. Well, that door opened fairly fast. She got sick. Kathy A. yes, well she was a nice lady. Then she got what is the word, bored and ill. Died as I said. She left me some money and along with the prize, I drifted off. Sorry Im bored and repeating myself. Her friend yes. Well, we had off the wall times in France. She realized I cannot live with her. And she came to stay for like a week or something. It was fun, that way. 

I._Oh, well let's talk about your early twenties. What were the prizes about and would they have played a role in your becoming a "hide-out" (Mister D's term) in old Ireland, and then Sussex New Brunswick? 

C.D.__ hahahhahaha, that's a bit of a myth. I attended Alliez's lecture and Derrida's ok? And there is the story I had attended one of the last seminars in Vincennes, which is , when all is said and done, true. And yes, Deleuze's voice was a revelation. Derrida was smoother than butter, whereas Professor Deleuze was rough going. I went to Ireland on Bloomsday, saw Burgess give a talk, and yes, I did go and live in Sussex. We had an art school, a private one. As for those silly letters of refusal, well it was a gag, a friend of mine from the Canadian publisher, what's it called? Stewart, yes, Mac and Stew, they did that. Or rather she did. I was in Toronto to read, or recite when that sort of thing was good, and this guy Kilodney was doing lots of gags to the CBC at the whole CBC writers literary, what's it called, Weavers writers.... well, me and some other nonliterary types did a fast one on them, and they were kind of peeved, so someone there said they gotta nail my ass. My poor ass! We went off for coffee and cigs, this was when you could still smoke, you know, before the fascist take over, and we thought this game plan up, and before you know, it , its happened! but someone else set it up, not me. Someone like me will never be part of the, oh wait, someone like me will never be part of even the so-called antiestablishment world of writing. Besides most of the writing in Canada is funded by institutions and writers like me, are, well I'm not interested. Look I'm tired, let's continue this some other time, ok? I._ Fine, fine, yes.

 Turn off tape-[recorder]. _________________________

_ 2-- I_ is it true you lived with a person claiming to be a direct descendent of someone unknown who had been in the French Commune? and then in May68? 

 CD when I took the course with Fanny, she was married to Jill Deleuze. She was my wife and a half. She had run away from a bad boring life of drink and brushing her self up for her next dial up enconter.

  Letter from Publisher. Dear Mister Difference Doctor no one is going to touch what you write. You ought to consider other styles of writing. I am suggesting you consider the fine art of tea. __________ Second Letter: Dear Mister D, Did you actually expect this firm to print your work? It is not in French, we accept only unsolicited unpublished manuscripts properly formatted, in ENGLISH. We suggest you return to your night position as a general janitor. The problem with young poets who are trilingual is that they think they can get away with anything. When we offered you a spot in our Anthology of young writers, you turned us down. You behaved like an impeccable snob.We wondered how this came about, and our conclusion is that your winning the several prizes as a twenty-one year old writer, went to your head. Our real suggestion now would read like this: get a life. 

______________ The interview was not completed as the interviewer died.She wore iambic pentameter suspenders and loops on her head, rainbow earings, and her real name was performance art baby can you read my breasts and kiss my feet? She was a detective writer and she had vague connections with the old Auden crowd. Really vague. Had been a member of the P.C. in France, in the 50's and had seen Tristan Tzara give talks about the value of Soviet power politics. Naturally he changed, like many others, changed his ideas when the Hungarian revolt was crushed. He was not a real Stalinist. A passionate man, and like others, often misguided by his own ideals. A poet more than a politico. Oh, well, this was she said. The interviewer was quite elderly and rather taken with my fictional propensities. God bless her dead soul. Or living as the case may be. _____________ ______________________ Life is what? a strange box we live on for a few weeks_ called years by some. be well love ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ____________--------------------------------
---------------talking --------------- stuffing

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