Eroticism is the state of having no faith in the integrity of one being, but of having faith in the integrity of a unity of beings. The individual cannot be erotic or appealing since the ideology of separateness wards off any interest before it can begin.
The adamant individual who adorns him- or herself will ward off all potential suitors with the hard lines of their limitations.
Eroticism is aggression. To be loved as only part of a person can make you more aggressive than to be loved as a whole. One searches for the missing parts of being, then, whereas to be a whole is to be self-satisfied to remain as one. Our parents are responsible for such a motion.
We're all torn apart through our production. That is one -- the only -- message one can get from Freud. Your parents tore you this way and that. You are the pieces of erotic drive that miss the others pieces they have taken from you. Or something like that. It's never even as neat as Freud imagined it. For me, I lack and yet am whole. The gender-lines are ziggy-zaggy. Nothing is so narrowly delineated as Viennese formal society would have you or I believe.
I can't stand the religious way of lying about everything. Supposing that you cross no lines imaginatively, then there is only the idea of male and female, separated from the start. No crossing over. But these two separated beings are repulsive. They're stuck within their animal existence with no animating force that would permit transactions past the boundaries of their beings. Passion has been sealed off with the pronouncement: 'You're the male and You're the female. Nothing overlaps or correlates."
Stuck with gender essentialism -- the state of anti-erotic being -- the imagination freezes. From this frozen state further obscene absurdities emerge. For instance it is said that women aren't aggressive (but men are!)
But -- that's like saying women don't have jagged, broken lines that rip across their beings. Not even men do. And we both know that's untrue.
Introspection leads you to dizzying heights, but narrow dogma leads to strange arrangements and the perpetuation of the madness of the gender wars. Not at all like: "We feel each other through our wounds." (Bataille)
The adamant individual who adorns him- or herself will ward off all potential suitors with the hard lines of their limitations.
Eroticism is aggression. To be loved as only part of a person can make you more aggressive than to be loved as a whole. One searches for the missing parts of being, then, whereas to be a whole is to be self-satisfied to remain as one. Our parents are responsible for such a motion.
We're all torn apart through our production. That is one -- the only -- message one can get from Freud. Your parents tore you this way and that. You are the pieces of erotic drive that miss the others pieces they have taken from you. Or something like that. It's never even as neat as Freud imagined it. For me, I lack and yet am whole. The gender-lines are ziggy-zaggy. Nothing is so narrowly delineated as Viennese formal society would have you or I believe.
I can't stand the religious way of lying about everything. Supposing that you cross no lines imaginatively, then there is only the idea of male and female, separated from the start. No crossing over. But these two separated beings are repulsive. They're stuck within their animal existence with no animating force that would permit transactions past the boundaries of their beings. Passion has been sealed off with the pronouncement: 'You're the male and You're the female. Nothing overlaps or correlates."
Stuck with gender essentialism -- the state of anti-erotic being -- the imagination freezes. From this frozen state further obscene absurdities emerge. For instance it is said that women aren't aggressive (but men are!)
But -- that's like saying women don't have jagged, broken lines that rip across their beings. Not even men do. And we both know that's untrue.
Introspection leads you to dizzying heights, but narrow dogma leads to strange arrangements and the perpetuation of the madness of the gender wars. Not at all like: "We feel each other through our wounds." (Bataille)
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