another month, another day, another week of feeling as though i haven't done enough. the demand to be productive eats into me, and then i rebel by (this week) watching Mad Men into the early hours of most mornings, and then i wake up tired, underslept, and more grumpy about my lack of discipline. my rebellion annoys me, despite such pleasures (i just finished series 4 this morning. so amazingly good).
so anyway, this is an ongoing cycle of 'self-work' that i do, trying to be productive, coming to resent this, eventually abandoning it and giving in to pleasures, and later feeling like a failed citizen. then i pledge to start over again the next day/week/month. it's boring, i know. it's a central contradiction in my current life, this not wanting to embrace neo-liberalism and its slogans of progress, freedom, individuality, etc. yet at the same time getting entrenched in my own lack of progress, my desire for accomplishment that is measurable (in words, chapters, or a tidy database), and not being able to measure the value of my weeks/days/months beyond certain structures of productivity or achievement. and so i continue beating myself over the head and promising a better future, a 'next week' in which i excel, get things done, move forward, etc. and on it goes, repeat until death.
yet, my rebellion does nourish me, and perhaps i need to take note of this. perhaps i can reflect on two hours ago when i sat in the park, in the sunshine, and wrote a postcard to JB. i laid on the grass, re-read his postcard, and wrote with green ink. the ink, the sun, the grass, his words, and my thoughts of him all conspire to make this a beautiful moment. as i'm about to leave the park J calls. i return to sitting in that patch of grass where he tells me of his travels and the books he's read, one of which he will post to me. i ask him what it's like having no fixed address. he sounds happy and this makes me happy.
postcards and phone conversations with faraway lovely people, in the park, in the sun. this is a good day. i should be glad that i'm lazy and 'unproductive'. i should see more merit in this sharing of words and time with those i most care about. why should it be that those relationships are to be fostered in 'down time', when one is not working and producing and participating in a more pervasive and dominant economy? what about economies of friendship, love, and caring? why must they be sidelined, and why do i so often accept this as necessary?
like many, i cast my values outside 'dominant cultures' (for want of a better phrase), yet i guess i don't live up to my ideals as much as i think i might. because i fall back onto a need to control, build, and progress my abilities in ways that make me socially and economically legitimate.
but arguably there is legitimacy in sitting on the grass with postcards and phone calls. when i left the park i felt quite accomplished. i felt grounded, content, and as though i have a right to be here, in a world that i am connected to, through these enduring webs of friendship.
i might do some work this afternoon. or i might pick up that marguerite duras book that i've taken from the shelf. and i'll try not to care that i'll have no visible output from such reading.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
cultural tourism
i'm holidaying for the weekend, by the beach, with a family of friends. this is when i hear about the thing in norway.
i'm at a coastal town market on sunday when i overhear a conversation by a stallholder and a friend/customer about their views on immigrants. his tables are lined with old glassware and ornaments, some of them quite nice. he talks about his family, or family friends, who came over here not having any english, "but they learnt". she says "because they were proud". she tells similar stories. back and forth they validate each others phobia of the newly arrived. he says something about "our flag", and "not the Iraqi flag". she says the good ones (her european friends/ancestors, presumably) don't forget where they came from, but at least they become Australian. at one point, with much gusto, she says "it just makes me sick". at this point i walk away, out of earshot.
whilst lingering and listening, the glassware around me transformed into potential destruction that i might cause to interrupt this conversation. "here's what i think of your immigration politics...". but no, of course i don't. i wouldn't. but in an alternative life (the one i might write, but not live), i pick up a magnificent ornament and thrust it to the ground. i do it again, and then again. i thrust glass upon glass to double the shattering. i smash more loudly, more viciously. i put my whole body into this. i kick, i shove, i throw, i grunt. my anger builds and rolls out of me, beautifully focused on my unfurling destruction. when i stop, so does all sound. no more shattering, and no more talking. there are no more statements from those two people. there's just a mess of pretty ruin. they probably don't know what to say now. and nor do i. but my hatred is gone. and i walk away and feel the warmth of sunshine.
i'm at a coastal town market on sunday when i overhear a conversation by a stallholder and a friend/customer about their views on immigrants. his tables are lined with old glassware and ornaments, some of them quite nice. he talks about his family, or family friends, who came over here not having any english, "but they learnt". she says "because they were proud". she tells similar stories. back and forth they validate each others phobia of the newly arrived. he says something about "our flag", and "not the Iraqi flag". she says the good ones (her european friends/ancestors, presumably) don't forget where they came from, but at least they become Australian. at one point, with much gusto, she says "it just makes me sick". at this point i walk away, out of earshot.
whilst lingering and listening, the glassware around me transformed into potential destruction that i might cause to interrupt this conversation. "here's what i think of your immigration politics...". but no, of course i don't. i wouldn't. but in an alternative life (the one i might write, but not live), i pick up a magnificent ornament and thrust it to the ground. i do it again, and then again. i thrust glass upon glass to double the shattering. i smash more loudly, more viciously. i put my whole body into this. i kick, i shove, i throw, i grunt. my anger builds and rolls out of me, beautifully focused on my unfurling destruction. when i stop, so does all sound. no more shattering, and no more talking. there are no more statements from those two people. there's just a mess of pretty ruin. they probably don't know what to say now. and nor do i. but my hatred is gone. and i walk away and feel the warmth of sunshine.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
some people might say...
life away from facebook is nice. my only concern is that some people might take my disappearance as a personal rejection, as is likely to happen in a space where your friendship becomes reduced to a digital link. if you take away that point of mediation does the friendship fall down? i suspect it often does. but that's okay, because i don't need 180 friends.
the friendships i need will continue via interactions that aren't so faceless. i suspect these will be friendships that never became too digitalised anyway.
deleting my avatar brings many good things. here's a list:
1. i have less opportunity to read reams of mundane 'self statements'.
2. i don't spend time asking why such statements needed to be broadcast.
3. i don't have to mediate a response (or non-response) to everything i see/read.
4. i don't have so much white noise to contend with.
5. i don't often say "i know" when people tell me something about themselves.
6. i have one less reason to get angry about people.
7. i have one less space in which to judge people.
8. i have significant less opportunity to procrastinate, and more time for other things that make me feel more accomplished in my days.
9. i feel less lonely.
10. i have more room to think about my privacy and why this is important.
another good thing is that i write more. most of this is not available to friends and acquaintances, which is great, because they don't need to read it. and i shouldn't need to have it validated (liked) by them. it's a private space in which i process events, feelings, things, and it only serves me, which is how i need it to be. there's a different tone in my words when i'm not fitting them to particular audiences. there's less room for me to perform what i think i need to. but there's also more confidence that something will come of this, someday.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
deactivating another self
i just deleted facebook. it's been on the cards for a while, and today is a fitting time to pull the plug. many people have heard about the hatred i feel for that site. but i guess i was reluctant to quit because it afforded me much time to play, and some sense of support. but right now i don't want to play. i need to disconnect from any space in which i feel compelled to perform a certain kind of self that needs approval and response. because today i'm different. today i don't care. today i can offer no consistency, no comment, and no desire to be 'liked'. i'm frightened by the idea of witty banter. give me depth. give me privacy.
give me a bed, a room, a hug, a cup of tea, and gentle words.
right now i'm experiencing a loss; something akin to grief. in such times i can't tolerate much of anything that isn't listed above. after a few days absence i checked facebook this morning only to be angered by overt (but unsurprising) performances of 'being wonderful'. i deactivate. problem solved.
i still have a fog of sadness, but that's kind of nice. i guess i don't want to have to feel like it should be any other way.
give me a bed, a room, a hug, a cup of tea, and gentle words.
right now i'm experiencing a loss; something akin to grief. in such times i can't tolerate much of anything that isn't listed above. after a few days absence i checked facebook this morning only to be angered by overt (but unsurprising) performances of 'being wonderful'. i deactivate. problem solved.
i still have a fog of sadness, but that's kind of nice. i guess i don't want to have to feel like it should be any other way.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
violette time
this morning feels quiet, but really it's not. there's cars and planes and wind through the leaves of plants. there's noises of people on the street below. i wonder how violette leduc would capture this moment.
she would give the leaves and planes some motivation for moving the way they do. they're competing. they're restless. or perhaps they're dying; falling from the sky. she would place her own withering onto them. or she may locate her joy in them. or in the sound of the dog barking, or the stacking of crockery next door. there's a rhythmic pulse that she disentangles from her surroundings. she bleeds into this chair, this paving, these plants. each time she touches earth she is digging inside herself, looking for a lost feeling. she is beyond self. at this moment i understand.
for a few seconds i felt alone, despite the sounds and plants and the sun that strokes me. then the cat arrives. she sits on the table directly in front of me. she says "i am not alone". she surveys the moving plants and her ears move sideways and forwards to capture the many sounds. she falls into the sunshine. she folds into me.
she would give the leaves and planes some motivation for moving the way they do. they're competing. they're restless. or perhaps they're dying; falling from the sky. she would place her own withering onto them. or she may locate her joy in them. or in the sound of the dog barking, or the stacking of crockery next door. there's a rhythmic pulse that she disentangles from her surroundings. she bleeds into this chair, this paving, these plants. each time she touches earth she is digging inside herself, looking for a lost feeling. she is beyond self. at this moment i understand.
for a few seconds i felt alone, despite the sounds and plants and the sun that strokes me. then the cat arrives. she sits on the table directly in front of me. she says "i am not alone". she surveys the moving plants and her ears move sideways and forwards to capture the many sounds. she falls into the sunshine. she folds into me.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
fucking monogamy
last night, when we should have been having sex, we talked about monogamy. the best way to not have sex is to talk about sex. yet we need to talk because he's a monogamist. and we've been spending a lot of nights in each others' beds.
there's much that i like about him. in our musical and intellectual tastes we are alike. politically we are aligned. and so there's a lot of groundwork that doesn't have to be done here, as we consistently find each other on the same page. but then there's this.
i feel reluctant to write about him as i'm aware that some readers might know him (or might come to know him). i've made an effort not to talk about him here. but this blog is my therapeutic space and i feel the need to process/write this. and i feel that this issue reflects many conversations i've shared with many friends. so here i will continue that thread.
he believes that monogamy is radical on the basis that in queer culture it's not the norm. he doesn't like cruising culture that prioritises sexual gratification at the expense of broader and less personal goals. nor do i (despite partaking from time to time). but i don't think that non-monogamy is all about sex, or cruising, or sexual gratification at the expense of all else. for me it has been a useful method to explore bodies, intimacies, desire, and self. it's about being open, experimental, and yes, it's about being sexual. it's about reducing limits placed on the body and thereby falling into situations where you otherwise might not. situations where you learn valuable lessons about the culture you inhabit. (for me, anyway)
he seems to think that non-monogamy privileges sex as immensely important. i disagree. i prefer to think of sex as potentially mundane, something that we just do from time to time, like eating, bathing, drinking coffee, or masturbating. sometimes we want it and sometimes we don't. sometimes we do it because we want pleasure. there are different ways to do it, and different people with whom to do it with. alone, in the presence of another, in groups, online... anyway, surely to cordon this pleasure practice from all others, and to relegate it to the space of the couple 'at the exclusion of all others' is to suggest that sex is immensely important (and immensely private). surely the best way to de-privilege sex would be to avoid monogamy. it might also be the best way to de-stress the couple relationship (so that two people are not made exclusively responsible for each others' sexual happiness). i'd argue that a culture of monogamy (or attempted monogamy, as is often the case) is itself an example of the prioritisation of sex as a pleasure practice above all others.
i don't think this is comprehensible to him. he is staunch in his beliefs, much like me. he argues that non-monogamy is an individualist pursuit to control your own pleasures whereby sex is only ever about you and your body. but this argument does not stick. monogamy is also all about you in its subjective aligning of self with another. it is about constructing a new cellular identity in which you move between self (me) and the couple (us). that movement is ongoing because the self is never fully swallowed by the couple, yet i would argue that there's less room for other intimacies when involved in that particular dance. of course many intimacies belong to friendships, but monogamy can put a strain on these too, particularly when monogamy funnels itself into co-dependence.
and i guess that's a deeper (and personal) concern that i have - that i might find myself in that space once again.
as someone interested in collective politics, and the political possibilities of bodies and intimacy, i don't like the suggestion (or accusation) that my belief in non-monogamy is due to me being a self-focused individualist. rather, i believe that shared intimacies, made more possible by non-monogamy (whether sexual or otherwise) are powerfully disruptive to particular systems/regimes that feed into global misery. if you believe that traditional formulas of coupling, families, and property ownership are destructive (which i do), then avoiding (and dismantling) traditional regimes of love, patriarchy, and propriety seems key. and what better way to start than by saying yes to non-monogamy.
perhaps i'm less focused on pleasure than intimacy, and as we spoke about it more this morning, i found myself spiking a vein of my phd argument. my final chapter has the working title of 'pleasure', but in a sense, my goal is to rescue pleasure from sex. in sexual health discourse pleasure is constituted as risk because it's seen as an always potential corruption of health; a powerful force that one falls prey to. here, pleasure leads us blindly into unhealthy actions (eg. sex without a condom). but i'm arguing that pleasure stretches well beyond sex acts, into spaces of friendship. when we have sex and talk about it with friends, comparing notes etc, this too is a practice of pleasure. then there's the pleasure in health practices as well; that is, one's ongoing pursuit to control one's body. there's also pleasure in relinquishing control. i suggest there (and here) that pleasure is not purely sexual, nor is it always about momentary gratification (ie. do it now, think about it later). it's about setting boundaries as much as its about crossing them. it's about the ongoing negotiation of sharing time, intimacy, experiences and stories. it's amorphous. and to think that it lies at the core of the sex act (beyond all other action) is to support the idea that sex is the most important thing we have.
sex is mundane. my thesis is boring. but i guess i do think it's a conversation that needs to be had. but it's a difficult line to walk, because i'm not saying i think there's a freedom in talking about sex (the sexual confession does little but reinforce that sex is core to human existence). but i guess i'm saying that it would be nice to conceptualise sex differently (as mundane), and perhaps one of the nice side effects of this would be to make negotiations of 'sexual health' (or healthy and ethical sex) a little bit easier. perhaps.
and while things remain unresolved between 'us', i guess i can thank him for pushing me back into the headspace of my thesis. and also for the swift realisation that my thesis arguments are entwined with my bodily practices. once again, my sexual politics exceed 'me', and i find myself in an unexpected situation.
there's much that i like about him. in our musical and intellectual tastes we are alike. politically we are aligned. and so there's a lot of groundwork that doesn't have to be done here, as we consistently find each other on the same page. but then there's this.
i feel reluctant to write about him as i'm aware that some readers might know him (or might come to know him). i've made an effort not to talk about him here. but this blog is my therapeutic space and i feel the need to process/write this. and i feel that this issue reflects many conversations i've shared with many friends. so here i will continue that thread.
he believes that monogamy is radical on the basis that in queer culture it's not the norm. he doesn't like cruising culture that prioritises sexual gratification at the expense of broader and less personal goals. nor do i (despite partaking from time to time). but i don't think that non-monogamy is all about sex, or cruising, or sexual gratification at the expense of all else. for me it has been a useful method to explore bodies, intimacies, desire, and self. it's about being open, experimental, and yes, it's about being sexual. it's about reducing limits placed on the body and thereby falling into situations where you otherwise might not. situations where you learn valuable lessons about the culture you inhabit. (for me, anyway)
he seems to think that non-monogamy privileges sex as immensely important. i disagree. i prefer to think of sex as potentially mundane, something that we just do from time to time, like eating, bathing, drinking coffee, or masturbating. sometimes we want it and sometimes we don't. sometimes we do it because we want pleasure. there are different ways to do it, and different people with whom to do it with. alone, in the presence of another, in groups, online... anyway, surely to cordon this pleasure practice from all others, and to relegate it to the space of the couple 'at the exclusion of all others' is to suggest that sex is immensely important (and immensely private). surely the best way to de-privilege sex would be to avoid monogamy. it might also be the best way to de-stress the couple relationship (so that two people are not made exclusively responsible for each others' sexual happiness). i'd argue that a culture of monogamy (or attempted monogamy, as is often the case) is itself an example of the prioritisation of sex as a pleasure practice above all others.
i don't think this is comprehensible to him. he is staunch in his beliefs, much like me. he argues that non-monogamy is an individualist pursuit to control your own pleasures whereby sex is only ever about you and your body. but this argument does not stick. monogamy is also all about you in its subjective aligning of self with another. it is about constructing a new cellular identity in which you move between self (me) and the couple (us). that movement is ongoing because the self is never fully swallowed by the couple, yet i would argue that there's less room for other intimacies when involved in that particular dance. of course many intimacies belong to friendships, but monogamy can put a strain on these too, particularly when monogamy funnels itself into co-dependence.
and i guess that's a deeper (and personal) concern that i have - that i might find myself in that space once again.
as someone interested in collective politics, and the political possibilities of bodies and intimacy, i don't like the suggestion (or accusation) that my belief in non-monogamy is due to me being a self-focused individualist. rather, i believe that shared intimacies, made more possible by non-monogamy (whether sexual or otherwise) are powerfully disruptive to particular systems/regimes that feed into global misery. if you believe that traditional formulas of coupling, families, and property ownership are destructive (which i do), then avoiding (and dismantling) traditional regimes of love, patriarchy, and propriety seems key. and what better way to start than by saying yes to non-monogamy.
perhaps i'm less focused on pleasure than intimacy, and as we spoke about it more this morning, i found myself spiking a vein of my phd argument. my final chapter has the working title of 'pleasure', but in a sense, my goal is to rescue pleasure from sex. in sexual health discourse pleasure is constituted as risk because it's seen as an always potential corruption of health; a powerful force that one falls prey to. here, pleasure leads us blindly into unhealthy actions (eg. sex without a condom). but i'm arguing that pleasure stretches well beyond sex acts, into spaces of friendship. when we have sex and talk about it with friends, comparing notes etc, this too is a practice of pleasure. then there's the pleasure in health practices as well; that is, one's ongoing pursuit to control one's body. there's also pleasure in relinquishing control. i suggest there (and here) that pleasure is not purely sexual, nor is it always about momentary gratification (ie. do it now, think about it later). it's about setting boundaries as much as its about crossing them. it's about the ongoing negotiation of sharing time, intimacy, experiences and stories. it's amorphous. and to think that it lies at the core of the sex act (beyond all other action) is to support the idea that sex is the most important thing we have.
sex is mundane. my thesis is boring. but i guess i do think it's a conversation that needs to be had. but it's a difficult line to walk, because i'm not saying i think there's a freedom in talking about sex (the sexual confession does little but reinforce that sex is core to human existence). but i guess i'm saying that it would be nice to conceptualise sex differently (as mundane), and perhaps one of the nice side effects of this would be to make negotiations of 'sexual health' (or healthy and ethical sex) a little bit easier. perhaps.
and while things remain unresolved between 'us', i guess i can thank him for pushing me back into the headspace of my thesis. and also for the swift realisation that my thesis arguments are entwined with my bodily practices. once again, my sexual politics exceed 'me', and i find myself in an unexpected situation.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
homo-identity-phobia
is it wrong to not care about the little furore over the removal of gay posters in brisbane bus shelters? because i really couldn't give a fuck.
i guess what makes me care less (and also feel quite agitated), is that people are getting angry, emotional, and somewhat 'activist' over this. but it's a kind of activism that means you have to 'like' and 'post' rampantly on facebook. it's a sad activism. she who posts loudest is the one who feels the most, right?
and i'm annoyed that it's quite militant. and i'm (just a little bit) aware that my response might also be militant. fighting anger with anger.
like in many segments of the social world there really is no discussion here. you're either a redneck or a progressive. you have no choice not to be outraged or supportive of such devastating oppression. oh please!
as a man who fucks men i guess such ads are aimed at me. but i don't identify with these images; if anything i quite despise them. i don't need to see posters of two people in love while i'm waiting for the bus. i don't need to be reminded that 'my people' are a species that prioritises fucking. and i don't enjoy the gay poster boy aesthetics used by acon/qahc/vac. there's a certain brand of fag here, and it's not appealing to me at all. so sure, take the posters away, i don't mind. and maybe ask some questions about what's being marketed here. what does it mean to sell gay sexuality back to the gays?
what does it mean to sell (predominantly) white, clean, middleclass sexuality to the queers on the street? i'm not suggesting that i'm not these things; i am suggesting that these are not the standards that i wish to salute, protect, or even 'tolerate'. gay health advertising is not my favourite thing, so the more that posters are defaced and challenged (and rendered unsatisfactory), the better. but who has a moment to contemplate this amongst the shouts of homophobia?
an instantaneous politics of 'shut it down now' cannot have time to reflect on what's being sold by a dominant discourse of 'rights' and 'protection'. do we have the right to disagree? do i have a right not to care? must i always be a traitor? in a loud politics of victim vs. oppressor, where our sexual preferences (as in what we 'like') define our being, then maybe i can't be constructed any other way.
i guess what makes me care less (and also feel quite agitated), is that people are getting angry, emotional, and somewhat 'activist' over this. but it's a kind of activism that means you have to 'like' and 'post' rampantly on facebook. it's a sad activism. she who posts loudest is the one who feels the most, right?
and i'm annoyed that it's quite militant. and i'm (just a little bit) aware that my response might also be militant. fighting anger with anger.
like in many segments of the social world there really is no discussion here. you're either a redneck or a progressive. you have no choice not to be outraged or supportive of such devastating oppression. oh please!
as a man who fucks men i guess such ads are aimed at me. but i don't identify with these images; if anything i quite despise them. i don't need to see posters of two people in love while i'm waiting for the bus. i don't need to be reminded that 'my people' are a species that prioritises fucking. and i don't enjoy the gay poster boy aesthetics used by acon/qahc/vac. there's a certain brand of fag here, and it's not appealing to me at all. so sure, take the posters away, i don't mind. and maybe ask some questions about what's being marketed here. what does it mean to sell gay sexuality back to the gays?
what does it mean to sell (predominantly) white, clean, middleclass sexuality to the queers on the street? i'm not suggesting that i'm not these things; i am suggesting that these are not the standards that i wish to salute, protect, or even 'tolerate'. gay health advertising is not my favourite thing, so the more that posters are defaced and challenged (and rendered unsatisfactory), the better. but who has a moment to contemplate this amongst the shouts of homophobia?
an instantaneous politics of 'shut it down now' cannot have time to reflect on what's being sold by a dominant discourse of 'rights' and 'protection'. do we have the right to disagree? do i have a right not to care? must i always be a traitor? in a loud politics of victim vs. oppressor, where our sexual preferences (as in what we 'like') define our being, then maybe i can't be constructed any other way.
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