Distractions, Distortions & Other Ways To Say Hello
A Note For Those Who Seek Tomorrows
I’m losing my train of thought, not that I had it, because I have yet to figure out how to align this paragraph in the way that I would like. Something about centered aligning undoes me; perhaps it is the notion of the “center” itself? Perhaps, it is the arrogance of it all? A conceit, I think? Don’t you? The notion that is some space, or being, or notion that takes no sides but all sides are summoned unto them/it/there to measured on the scales of balance for lunacy, extremism, logic and (im)possibility? It strikes me, yes, it is an assault. It strikes me across the cheek and psyche and I have never been one to claim non-violence as a viable politic or even affirm its existence as possibility. I mean, isn’t the voluntary or compelled non-physical reaction to violence, a violence in and of itself? Is not a submission, a subordination, a disavowal of a natural right and duty to defend one’s livelihood, essence, being from trespass? In order to perform a ritual of a pain, so that the violator might be shamed enough to cease their tradition of assault? A surround of violence. A theater of queer harms. I prefer…other things. Where was I? Yes, the center. It demands everything and does nothing. A conceit. A lie. A fantastical notion that continues to haunt with smirk and chain in hand. What rest is there for the weary soul stayed on freedom when our mere presence is evidence for cause of eviction, restriction and forced removal? Who can save us but we? Who can lead us home from this shanty town imposed upon us as domicile? Who can sustain us but the inheritance of Ancestors? What prayers and pleas and appeals can be crafted to move those disabled by the neurosis that power and privilege begat? If it be a political party, it is not one that begins with D or an R; but that forms as a result of a true reckoning with who we are, who we’ve become and how we must become anew, together, for once? Perhaps, maybe, this is a call to move from cyclical Reconstructions and (white) backlashes; and instead a call for a wake, a memorial, a wailing for all that was, all that we were, so we might bury the dead ideas and ways of being that arrest, detest and doom us and begin anew, again, so that we might live the lives our Ancestors dreamed of—whether pleasant or nightmarish—so that we might be goodly, gentle and Divine, for once, being the beings were intended to Be. *Please note that though this is a free post, those who subscribe will have access to audio and/or visual versions of these writings and additional content. Those interested in booking me should visit my personal website*
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