counterfeit miracles

“You chose your journey long before you came upon this highway.”

– Leonard Cohen Winter Lady

artist: Sanja Iveković

It turns out reoccurring dreams of hallways actually means something. The hallways I’ve sleepwalked have been long but surprisingly well-lit. Even in my dreams, I take death marches.

For most of my thinking life, I have privileged the mind because I believed my body to be a source of betrayal, transgression, and, for a long time, a place of jeopardy. The somatic evidence cultivated through reinforced fundamentalist myths (god bless the tight mechanics of a Southern Baptist repression machine) and physical violations made this belief concrete. My dichotomous life was established and safe. I feel more comfortable circumscribed by theory and words.

Yet my body introduces itself and all those heavy gendered prescriptions before I even have a chance to form vowels and articulate my consonants. This strategy of tangental communication isn’t effective. In an essay entitled, “Fucking with Fucking Online”, from Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots?, Michael Faris and ML Sugie have succinctly captured the journey I am currently on.

“If what we want is intimacy, if we want to feel connected, if we want to experience sexuality then we have to actively participate in it. … Part of this takes a radical interrogation of one’s own desire.”

This radical interrogation has required me to map the false continental divide I have maintained between mind and body. I’ve had to acknowledge the dynamic contours of my desires and chart the choices that led me to this location.

As the last traces of your touch evaporate into epitaph, I add the weight of your influence to the cartography of my corporeal self.

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