"Hellooooooo honey, I'm ho-oooome!"
The past month has been about negotiating categories (homosexual, pervert, intellectual, anarchist), critiques (the repressive hypothesis, sentimentality), and practices (veganism primarily). About wetness, scheduling, anxiety making and unmaking. Feeling confident and over-powerful despite my farts. Moving too frequently from one room to another.
I don't want to take more than I can give back, but find it too easy when whirlpooled in this hauschoolcommunity, these meteor vectors of spray paint music resistance spectacle lo-ooove, in short creativity. How do I permanently plant my ass in a place of agency? The paralysis and pleasure of analysis is too easy, too much, too soon (again I am quoting Foucault here; my ideas are his ideas were probably someone else's ideas). In the rehearsal room, I want to shut off everyone's brains and use our bodily impulses (I want to be new age, I want to talk about auras), but am entrenched in a weird dilemma between the politics of BDSM and the collective fantasy of my first year actor's rosy virginal buds.
I want everyone to wrestle and enjoy it.
......Foucault whispers 'tsk tsk' when I talk about my desires. Nevertheless, I commence a process of self-reflection.
Question #1: Why do I want to write about a substance (shit) that I am so physically disgusted by?
a) Shit functions in my unconscious as a symbolic displacement of male genitalia.
b) My inherited privilege has deprived of an identity-making traumatic experience, and so I seek to create a site of discomfort in the space of my greatest comfort and confidence, academia.
c) I have a potty mouth.
d) I want to terrify and radicalize institutional spaces (i.e. a BA thesis).
e) All of the above.
This is a collective and democratic process of self-reflection. I welcome your votes.
Thank you and good night,
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