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I did an interesting dance today (mimesis). I pretended I was a jellyfish. I imagined my muscles, once under my control, as gelatinous blobs of mesoglea. I imagined my body as water. I could not move my limbs. Only the water of the imaginary sea could move me. It is difficult to imagine a handicap. It is difficult to deny tension. An example. I may exert force by rolling slowly or by rising to my feet. I am engaged. I may surrender myself to the forces of physics by allowing gravity to pull my body through the floorboards. I am neutral. I am nothing. We define ourselves by fighting the natural condition of things. Do you understand? This is not a lecture about tension. I am hardly qualified. See Jacques Lecoq’s Theatre of Movement and Gesture, especially the chapter on French mime and space. See YouTube’s Amazing Wart Comb Jellyfish Sex. See David Lambert on the secret sex lives of animals. See my love life. For tips. On how to botch tension. Have you ever kissed a gay man? Yesterday I pretended I was a virgin bathing in a

pool. A gay man watched me from behind a fallen log. I engaged him in Muay Thai. He choked me with one black arm and locked my wrists in a stockade. My tongue lolled about like a great slug. This Xmas, figure out why I’m in love with the aesthetic of subjugation, the aesthetic of violence. I admire writing that communicates and that slaughters any possibility for apathy. On occasion I lie. Lying is a practice of the rich and the poor, both of whom lie to get richer. A beggar in the park chases after me with a thin gold bracelet that a fashionable Florentine several strides ahead has supposedly let slip from her delicate wrist. My best lies come without preparation. Under pressure, the subconscious manufactures false realities that troll the highways of communication unnoticed by even the lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue. My mother is Angelina Jolie. My father is Angelina Jolie. I have adopted the entire continent of Africa. Every morning I eat six raw chickens for breakfast. I use their feathers to floss between my teeth. I am gay. I am black. I fear commitment. Emulating apathy is my mechanism for coping with hurt. I have never been rejected physically, but I have been rejected emotionally.

Issue 45 Fall 2011  

Clerestory Journal of the Arts

Issue 45 Fall 2011  

Clerestory Journal of the Arts

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