Thursday, March 18

Homi K Bhabha Don’t Play That…

I hate it when people use the word ‘potential’ on me. It turns me up all sorts of queasy and uncomfortable.


You see, the thing about the ‘p’ word is that it’s a very dirty thing. Dirtier than masturbation, blow jobs, or even Republicans. I always figured that once I finally reached my full ‘potential’ that would be it. It would be the climax of my life, the catharsis I’ve always waited for, the end result of my frustrations finally put to pen and paper. There would be no recovery from the peak, no ease back to reality, nothing more to do or say or want. I’d simply collapse into a pile of tangled limbs---my vessel empty, because there’s just no more use for a body.

And then I’d be floating intellectual matter in a dimension where everyone eats Jello pudding cups without the tyranny of pants and quotes Bhabha and Foucault and Scrubs all the time.

I just always figured that if I ever happen to fulfill my ‘p’-word credentials, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself after. I’d just sit around twiddling my thumbs, waiting to die.


Maybe I don’t want to reach that point. Ever.


Then again, why the fuck are the expectations so damn high? I try to wrestle through the overgrowth of self-loathing and disownment, but only manage to muddle myself further into the depths of my life’s greatest question: So what? I can spin a few pretty lines of poetry. So what? I can link theories together. Big fucking deal.

Why the fuck do you think I’m something special?

Because I can’t see it, that’s for sure.


Maybe I’m that pretend kind of special. You know. That person who attempts to convince you that they’re special and is such a good bullshiter that you start to believe them. But really, when it comes time to produce something, anything, they cop out.


Yeah. That sounds more like it.

I’m so pretentious that you think I’m brilliant, when really, I’m a two-bit remnant of a mediocre wanna-be poet.


It’s always a struggle for knowledge- for power- for domination and submission. The colonizer’s power is determined by the colonized. Subdue the effeminate other until he becomes a passive participant.

It’s an ugly business, this power/weakness dichotomy is…

What upsets me these days is thinking about masculine/feminine traits. What makes a man and what makes a woman?

I can accept that there are differences in anatomy, but to fix inalterably essences like rationality, intellect, and strength to gender and personhood is one penny shy of ridiculous. When are we going to move away from the macroscopic/reductionist view of things? When are we going to embrace deconstruction and rebuild?

Siiiigh.



I should really be doing legit work right now.


-Cheers!

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