Sigmund Freud believed that every crush has a strand of disgust, that people are attracted to what repulses them. The enchantment of an infatuation always counterbalances the reality that our lovers - irksome, confusing, and unflaggingly human - depart from whatever ideal archetype we have stored in our heads.
A little rice? A little soup? I'd rather die reading the early texts you sent about my breasts. I wouldn't take a picture- infidelity!- and so instead had conjured them with words, for which, with words, you gave me back a tongue we dragged across the skin of common thought. Such is our lot, our shared disease or gift. Like Bernini's angels propped somewhere in Rome
Seneca, the ancient Stoic philosopher, wrote in Letters to Lucilius that it's not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor. The film "Fight Club" delivered the modern remix centuries later when Tyler Durden-played with feral brilliance by Brad Pitt-growled: The things you own end up owning you. One was writing in imperial Rome. The other was railing against the Ikea-ification of the modern soul. Yet both saw the same truth: Desire, when unquestioned, becomes bondage.
Desire is a human way of passing from a physical attraction to a psychic and even a spiritual feeling. Being rooted in nature, desire can transform a merely natural belonging into a psychic or spiritual belonging which can remain sensitive [capable of feeling], thus peculiar to each. Desire builds bridges between our body and our psyche and our mind, but also between us as living beings,
A woman lives in a garden surrounded by high rock walls. Moss and lichen grow like the hair and skin of something ancient over the cobblestone. Everything in the garden is old, and even new things are aged by the air inside of it. No one can come in, nor can she get out. She sees a figure passing outside between the cracks in the wall and wonders who they are,
Midway through "KIKI," a standout of his new album, SUMMERSONGS, wolfacejoeyy gets so desperate, so shameless, that he crosses into delusion. "I know you like girls, boo," he whines, staring down another rejection. "I like girls too!" It shouldn't work, because it's very stupid. But he knows this, and that's what makes it so wonderfully absurdist: Desire and dignity are negotiating, and desire is beating dignity's ass.
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