fucking the artist, epilogue: dropping the knife.
Seems like having the right politics is like having the right pair of shoes.
people are cruel, all the 'good politics' in the world seems not to change it.
There is no real accountability to this model, bc each one exists independently of the effect they have on others.
another way to say this:
I have been used. I cannot figure out how to somehow twist this around to be somehow advantageous or pleasurable, and the politics or sexual ethics that suggest I should, bc others can/do, is I think very hypocritical. Perhaps I invited this by getting involved with people who live this way, and holding them above me. This model makes betrayal par for the course, deep contact impossible, and reiterates or reenacts all that has been endured by an actor onto her target, in the name of 'healing' or 'connection'. This is why risk is the greatest pleasure, to disclose vulnerability to another person who will then know exactly where to stab you when the time comes, until you realise that for some actors, the line btwn loving and use is as thin as a knife. I've known more humanity in being intimate with a stranger.
This is not what I want to produce with my body or my time.
Each day returns me closer to the elements until i will be nothing but a luz bone swept between the floor boards. Noone will ask, did that one touch anything, did that one feed anyone, did it hear something?
*
I've endured a lot of betrayal since I moved to the US, ultimately in each case bc something I cherished as beautiful devolved to be something else, and not having the currency to maintain a commerce with it, i continued to risk everything to pursue the beautiful, even as it evapourated into the stark clarity of....of....of?....of Monday June 11, 2007.
people are cruel, all the 'good politics' in the world seems not to change it.
There is no real accountability to this model, bc each one exists independently of the effect they have on others.
another way to say this:
I have been used. I cannot figure out how to somehow twist this around to be somehow advantageous or pleasurable, and the politics or sexual ethics that suggest I should, bc others can/do, is I think very hypocritical. Perhaps I invited this by getting involved with people who live this way, and holding them above me. This model makes betrayal par for the course, deep contact impossible, and reiterates or reenacts all that has been endured by an actor onto her target, in the name of 'healing' or 'connection'. This is why risk is the greatest pleasure, to disclose vulnerability to another person who will then know exactly where to stab you when the time comes, until you realise that for some actors, the line btwn loving and use is as thin as a knife. I've known more humanity in being intimate with a stranger.
This is not what I want to produce with my body or my time.
Each day returns me closer to the elements until i will be nothing but a luz bone swept between the floor boards. Noone will ask, did that one touch anything, did that one feed anyone, did it hear something?
*
I've endured a lot of betrayal since I moved to the US, ultimately in each case bc something I cherished as beautiful devolved to be something else, and not having the currency to maintain a commerce with it, i continued to risk everything to pursue the beautiful, even as it evapourated into the stark clarity of....of....of?....of Monday June 11, 2007.