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 I want to run.

Mostly away from this space, the foreign space where, instead, I might explain differently in gesture.



To hang over in space, and 

                                                       later  to literally               

                                                                                        drape your torso weighted by the skull, counterbalanced by the tail dangling from in its forever-reach towards its literal other shore, I trace through perineum’s vast suspension to find the ground.


I take advantage of my teenage-like morning hard-on, tried and true.


 

 

 

 

 

 (I can now report this from what seems like just-recently-before to the-now of middle age. How generic,     how flat, but how psyched to have a rushed needy, greedy, hungry sense of things.) Most of us, in our original sense of being a we,    and more intimately an us, dare to take both the night body and its kink’s single word demands. Turn up the heat. 


 

 

 

 

 

 




Even in the drab, foggy, wetness of menopause, this proves to be both a breakup with the body     and a kind of irreverent and sometimes rude interruption to one’s sense of being self-possessed, or even reliably anticipatory. It tears through a diamond-hard      dimensioned awareness, that when attended, gestured towards, when even slightly acknowledged, works open my jaw, letting 

out a sigh of a different export, a kind of welcoming relief, a beckoning.

The body isn’t merely “mine”

➬

 

 

 

 

                ____________  I aim to draw together some of the terms offered in Glissant’s 'Poetics of Relation' and his rendering – or tendering to -and of- opaque space. Ahmed suggests that 
'the experience of being outside the very ideals that are presumed to enable a good life still gets us somewhere.'                  
                               I explore with other self-identified “trans*positions” and marginal others within structures from which we must cross and traverse space – sometimes in tandem or in direflict, according to the improvisation’s tone – creating an ecotonal space, one between where we contribute to the other – even in our difference. 
   How easy to create or insinuate good or bad feelings as we encounter the other,      as we assume a position and we attune to see how happiness can also “direct” – which is to say that it might also over-serve?        which is to say that it must also        serve as an effect – welcome or abject.
Here Ahmed tells a story that we learn from this world retained “outside” of the outside 
'There is a political struggle about how we attribute good and bad feelings, which hesitates around the apparently simple question of who affects whom, or who introduces what feelings to whom. 
    Feelings can get stuck to certain bodies in the very way we describe spaces, situations, dramas. And bodies can get stuck depending on what feelings they get associated with.'
Ahmed’s killjoy is deeply aware that happiness is not casual, nor easily received – nor transmitted, nor does it follow a pathway with markers along a “social path”.     
         (pause)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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