Self is reminded of this again when she reads Diane Gilliam’s essay on “Working in Silence,” on A Room of Her Own Foundation’s website.
The full quote is: Silence is your treasure. Do not exchange it for an easy life.
Walking to Annenberg from Littlefield, you pass this meadow. Self doesn’t know the name of the artist who made this sculpture, but right in front of the Cummings Art Building is a Henry Moore.
Last night, self found herself back in Stanford. Self enjoyed the walk through the still campus. She remembers thinking: How quiet it is here. How peaceful. And that’s what Stanford gave her: four years of peace. Two years in the East Asian Studies Program, with a concentration in Chinese, two years as a Creative Writing Program Fellow. What an unimaginable luxury.
Self originally meant this post to be about the Rolling Stones. Specifically, the Rolling Stones as they were in 1972, when Robert Frank made the documentary “Cxxxxsucker Blues” (Self blushes to admit that the x’s are her own. The early 1970s were still the 1960s. What self means by that is that drug use was still rampant, and so was free love. And Mick wore velvet jumpsuits spangled with sequins and looked vaguely reminiscent of Elvis, only much thinner). They showed it in Annenberg, last night. Amazingly, the theater was packed, even though at that very moment, the San Francisco Giants were facing off against the Saint Louis Cardinals.
Frankly, it was just painful to see the way women were treated in this movie (like pieces of meat — yes, exactly. Thank you Jennifer Lawrence or whoever): they were either in bed or shooting up or sewing. Yes, sewing.
With one exception: Bianca Jagger. Who was in no way a groupie. Who Mick treated with affection.
Thank God for Bianca Jagger.
The album “Exile on Main Street” was self’s first ever Rolling Stones album. And the Robert Frank documentary was about the 1972 tour for that album. If for nothing else, self had to see the documentary.
And Mick had this amazing, amazing diffidence (Keith Richards had it too, to a lesser degree). At one point, he stares straight at the camera (presumably being held by Robert Frank) and says, casually contemptuous, “Fuck you.” And it’s not as if Frank caught him in an intimate moment, either. He’s just standing there, and he decides to turn his head, look at Frank, and without his face changing expression, says “Fuck you.”
Now, that’s a moment.
And now, before self gets too carried away with this post, she needs to get moving. She realizes she hasn’t even connected the dots between the quote “Silence is your treasure” to the Stones documentary.
But, ta-ta, dear ones! To be continued.