she was a Lost Girl

There is always this legend about the wild lost women, previously the lost girl, about how she has become such creature because she had been abused as a child.

Well... its true, is true and its amazing how this issue is at work at the back of all the bad girls of this world.

This is why I felt immediately connected to Kathy Acker when I got her book in 1982 in London wile studying dance...

Her diaries and adventures had such resonance, it was more subconscious more Freudian perhaps but there it was this father figure, this special relation, this kidnapping and poems and this liberated sex.

I started my special relation when I was 15, just after I was locked at a young girls "underage criminal" sort of prison run by nuns. My father put me there because I had escaped my home for one night and he thought I should learn some lesson for it.

The nuns knew him as he used to take some packaging to be made by the young offenders during a few hours a day.
I myself, did the packaging next to girls that had knifed their friends or stolen some clothes, we used to listen to the radio and following some romantic serial.

I was there for a week, a week that lasted for ever.
I was looked in my room by night, and the room( better said the cube) did not had celling. We could hear a bit all the atmosphere of the huge space, I had a very small portable radio and my little Snoopy pet, I would hold to it and listen to music with my ear pasted to the transistor. Songs like Hurricane by Bob Dylan will be my emotional soundtrack of the week.

My father, who was very handsome and I thought very cool too, was doing some Rally driving kind of stuff and I loved to go with him by night at high speed for the rehearse of the routes.

In this occasion he told me how sad he was because of my mother... he posed as a victim and told me all his pain and all that happened, just that some how it was too "very well described" about sexual scenes with my mother and his new lover ( he was in love seemed ) and he did not know what to do.

That week end, during the Costa Brava Rally season I can say I lost my childhood for ever, as I became emotionally incestuous and also the "care taker" of my daddy.

Since this started all my sexual emotional life went down the rails at an enormous speed, but I was cool, open minded, sexually liberated and hung out with older marxist intellectuals that had open couples and that also all wanted to bed me as well. It was all joy and newness, a fresh start around the death of Franco, the huge Father of Spain, and of course how could I suspect that all that was going on with my dad was wrong?

I was his best friend, I could be his shoulder and help ... oh! but, does not a father supposed to be their kids shoulder too? This perversion or inversion of roles is a tactic and is the first effect of all ills to come.

40 years later, writing from a Hospital wile he is just been lodged after one sort of ictus, during xmas times and after having had my psychotic sister totally off her head again about her incest with Dad, makes me think he actually heard me talking to her on the phone.

Because yes, she was also his victim a few years later and sadly in her case things got physical.

Incest in my house!!
Lost girls all crazy all drug users all mentally ill all wild sexually eccentric ...all on pills and treatment and all thanks to our Dad.

The Father of the Patriarchal World, the man who can do as he wants with nothing to be blamed for.
The testosterone attacks the power relations the inner destructive feel about all women.

For that at the back of  some of my works and my identification with some female artist is a very dark Father, for which we all feel sad and pity for which all had to suffer and lose our selves, that theme from which now I need to get away.