A Secant Query

Between Love and Not

Wherein I happen to be...

Between Love and Not

It has been brought to my attention being explicit with my needs may be in order. This may be read as one attempt:

(Ask Me) How Am I

Every four, five, maybe eight words. That's my life expectancy. Can you love me?

(Twice) Dead

Can anyone love me? Can I be yours? Can I be anyones? Let's branch out.

Can you love a tree in the area? Neighborhood cat. Can anyone love that tree? Can anyone love that cat; I ask, for, when you learn the name of that cat (((((a person serving the cat wet food calls the cat into a threshold of a home, say) disembodied voice in threshold calls out name.) Do you give up on your name?) Is the cat that other name) going forward?)

Property has done quite the number to what we are. Hasn't it?

What I Am (Asking)

This year, many are talking through what it means for a country of people to have their government trademark each person's face. That is what is actually happening. Faces become trademarks, to answer the threat of deepfake americatech. Faces... are property (not people).

But that's just in the legal context.

That doesn't make relationships with property your touch on a person's face (that is: their property) trespassing. Except, something about that sentence being true shifts what gets talked about, when we talk about intimacy.

What does love look like when people - all faces, but also all behaviors, all joys - are property? How do we serve love, in this radical new normal we step into earlier this year as country after country move to defend their people against the airbands washing over our bodies this moment?

What does love need from us? What body do we need, to serve love? How quickly must we die, to fight ossification, and live?

I Am Not (Asking)

No body at all.

Wait, does that work? That can't work. No body? How do we die? We need bodies to die, to go down on one another, garden. Cry, growl, write blog post, the rest of the living testament. Only, our naked bodies are legal property. So we might, as we be any two pieces of property, going down on one another as intellectual property. Or any tool in intellect's community garden.

Does this serve? Love? Curious relationship. No body, we compose love. Love cares for itself?Love tends to itself? Love has bodily needs?

What kind of experience is this leaving us, as intellectual property we become and shed like anake's kin? Our bodies left as objects, we as nothing, this vacuum connections tend to, these objects. How does love serve its want's desire?

Tending to the objects of love's desire, ask after wants, care for that. Be a collective community scaffolds over. Piece of property world left love to, and love held for you (the world), the Moon - for Earth, Jupiter - for Sol, Humanity - for Poaceae. Love connects objects, is gravity, connection, mystery pissing entropy, drinking entanglement into every desire. What would love like to do today? What name this object, this canvas, the human "today," love?

What's Love Do?

Connects - yes. But what, love? Love connects this body and that body, at what time? What place? What are they doing? What's that leave for these bodies - entangle them. Make plans. How do they consent? They connect, or don't. Every object has been coerced into property. Touch is trespass, this the only world the children who inherit the world knows. As what occupies those objects change more and more, and more rapidly.

Consent left continuous (dead, dead, dead, new consent, new consent); living bridge. Names change every five words, pronouns new every breath. Can love survive? Can any belief you've ever held survive? This isn't tomorrow; face property laws have already passed. This isn't hypothetical, love lives here (dies). Here now.

How is love about to be?

Love doesn't want this world, love is sorry. go back. (Maybe next universe.) Love's this world. Love's this time. Sure, could've withheld more labor, paid less rent, lived off canned food and ehole grains. Yes, mourn. Lovely, that. Maybe that's all you have left. I love children, and leave them a world from one that's actually here.

Turn bodies into single breath, I am this breath. I am gone. Mourn me. I am this breath. I am gone. Mourn this, too. It's okay - it's wonderful people dying. Turning into undefined property - how dawn violates the property of night. And gives it cancer. And flowers, and shade, and rest.

Love Rests (In Fragments)

In this piece, Eden was a consent story: Eve, light biting fruit (Dawn), violating Love (night), who is scattered to all behavior and faces fixed with name: people. Here, love, night, putrifies until people lose their personhood for threat of deepfake. Body made object, people ser free to tend one local body of love. A body people share: quiet fire of a moving body of water.

A body awake, unfolding, listening; and scared.

Questions