Love Is One Hell of a Drug
So, I have a bunch of mushy bullshit to talk about. Please bear with me while I make no sense.
So it seems like it's very likely I will have a visitor in Indiana while I'm over. And honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if things there began to head in a serious direction. In fact, I want them to. I can say that I am infatuated as all hell and there is no more credible witness than my body, myself. I've been feeling less hungry, less sleepy and a lot hornier than I usually do. I've also been thinking about so many things, my brain can barely keep up with itself. It's like my body is producing its own batch of speed and I'm continually hooked to it for 2 weeks straight-I'm beyond high, I'm fucking wired.
I've been talking to xe 4, 5 hours every day for a while, and there are still so many things that xe makes me think of that I don't disclose or get to talk about. I've been musing extensively over my own corpo(reality), the way my flesh is arranged into something coherent and intelligible to others and to myself, into assemblages that I find myself in. I hadn't given it a lot of thought until now, but I've increasingly felt myself as elements of myself are distinctly non-human. Now, as a fierce defender of Jasbir Puar's concept of assemblages (worked from the writings of Gilles Deleuze, to give credit where credit is due), I guess this shouldn't surprise anyone? As someone who takes her transsomatechnics like fucking candy, well, I guess I was trying to make sense of myself. And the truth is that I feel like I am not completely human. Before you say "Oh, furry RP", no, this isn't about roleplaying or fantasizing but about how I actually relate to my body. I sometimes look into the mirror and realize something is missing; I don't hate myself for it. After all, I've learned to make do with what I have, with my circumstances. It's less about a fantastic display of a strong sense of abjection for my body and more of a longing for what is missing, drips of attrition falling from the faucet into my soul. I feel like I should have horns, and believe me, I _do_ plan on getting implants when I can afford them. I feel like I'm cyborgian, but getting into all the bla bla bla that would require is outside the scope of this confessional.
It's not like talking to Fenbot has made these ideas pop up for the first time ever; it's only that they've popped up in a space where I don't feel I'd be as shamed or ridiculed for them. I distinctly remember telling Hikari when we were going out to not refer to me as a human. She tried to abide to it for a while, but then stated that the existence of people who thought of themselves as something other than a molar human and embraced it was a slap in the face to people of color and others who have been hegemonically understood as less than human. Again, my "color" came back to bite me in the ass with a vengeance, as if she was trying to get me to choose between these two parts of myself, where the obvious implication is that race is not only the "political" but the authentic choice; this otherness I feel, for people like her, is out of sight, out of mind, in a way the way my skin caramelizes under the sun never will. I don't want to pick and choose, in fact, I'm tired of it: I'm working hard to be the human-animal-machine assemblage that I want to be without having to sacrifice one for the other(s). I will do this. I will dream myself another reality and I will make it happen. Latin America has a long tradition of magical realism, so I'm not the first-or will be the last-to dream of the world and my place in it patas arriba. This assemblage of flesh and identities, of histories and chemical reactions, of DNA and SSN, will be the change that it wants to see in the world.
So it seems like it's very likely I will have a visitor in Indiana while I'm over. And honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if things there began to head in a serious direction. In fact, I want them to. I can say that I am infatuated as all hell and there is no more credible witness than my body, myself. I've been feeling less hungry, less sleepy and a lot hornier than I usually do. I've also been thinking about so many things, my brain can barely keep up with itself. It's like my body is producing its own batch of speed and I'm continually hooked to it for 2 weeks straight-I'm beyond high, I'm fucking wired.
I've been talking to xe 4, 5 hours every day for a while, and there are still so many things that xe makes me think of that I don't disclose or get to talk about. I've been musing extensively over my own corpo(reality), the way my flesh is arranged into something coherent and intelligible to others and to myself, into assemblages that I find myself in. I hadn't given it a lot of thought until now, but I've increasingly felt myself as elements of myself are distinctly non-human. Now, as a fierce defender of Jasbir Puar's concept of assemblages (worked from the writings of Gilles Deleuze, to give credit where credit is due), I guess this shouldn't surprise anyone? As someone who takes her transsomatechnics like fucking candy, well, I guess I was trying to make sense of myself. And the truth is that I feel like I am not completely human. Before you say "Oh, furry RP", no, this isn't about roleplaying or fantasizing but about how I actually relate to my body. I sometimes look into the mirror and realize something is missing; I don't hate myself for it. After all, I've learned to make do with what I have, with my circumstances. It's less about a fantastic display of a strong sense of abjection for my body and more of a longing for what is missing, drips of attrition falling from the faucet into my soul. I feel like I should have horns, and believe me, I _do_ plan on getting implants when I can afford them. I feel like I'm cyborgian, but getting into all the bla bla bla that would require is outside the scope of this confessional.
It's not like talking to Fenbot has made these ideas pop up for the first time ever; it's only that they've popped up in a space where I don't feel I'd be as shamed or ridiculed for them. I distinctly remember telling Hikari when we were going out to not refer to me as a human. She tried to abide to it for a while, but then stated that the existence of people who thought of themselves as something other than a molar human and embraced it was a slap in the face to people of color and others who have been hegemonically understood as less than human. Again, my "color" came back to bite me in the ass with a vengeance, as if she was trying to get me to choose between these two parts of myself, where the obvious implication is that race is not only the "political" but the authentic choice; this otherness I feel, for people like her, is out of sight, out of mind, in a way the way my skin caramelizes under the sun never will. I don't want to pick and choose, in fact, I'm tired of it: I'm working hard to be the human-animal-machine assemblage that I want to be without having to sacrifice one for the other(s). I will do this. I will dream myself another reality and I will make it happen. Latin America has a long tradition of magical realism, so I'm not the first-or will be the last-to dream of the world and my place in it patas arriba. This assemblage of flesh and identities, of histories and chemical reactions, of DNA and SSN, will be the change that it wants to see in the world.