In total darkness or in a room that is merely devoid of light for hours and hours repeating the same actions over and over again, unable to detach the interior from the exterior, imagining that you were originally hollow: a hollow body waiting for an object or spirit to come and live in that hollow. These are some coping strategies. Over and over again without a shred of light, moving up and down the walls, performing the same abstractions as if they were concrete. It is not that we hate you it is that we have moved away. It is that we question your use of the word 'agency' and 'choice', it is that we can't work out whether your theology is that of Calvin, Arminius or Molina. And we have our own dark night to walk through and we are understandably quite afraid.
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I spoke to a queer on Sunday. I bent down to rub the spit and grit from her head. She said it isn't out of hatred or even apathy, I'm just not sure I want to come to the altar and watch you and your husband do whatever kind of strange ritual it is that I am historically excluded from or worse, forced into. Call it my small act of rebellion. I screamed at her for hours how frantically you may emulate our disorder how never before have things been so I snarled progressive. How you could join yourself to your hip I became very angry and began to spit and kick.
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We don't have much left to say on these issues. Everyone's been pushed into such shitty counter-rhythms it's basically useless trying to argue. Just this, just remember this, baby, it isn't a transition it's a fucking apocalypse. So sorry to cause you so much discomfort.
*
for a gun, an abortion
for a scan, a lathe
for a pine, fly agaric
for a knot, anew rage.
