My Books

  • Click Away Close Door Say - http://www.contrabandbooks.co.uk/verity-spott/
  • Gideon - http://www.barquepress.com/publications.php?i=97
  • Trans* Manifestos - http://shitvalley.tumblr.com/
  • Balconette - http://www.veerbooks.com/Verity-Spott-Balconette

Thursday, 2 June 2016

First Trans* Manifesto

Would you believe it? I spent an hour writing this essay today and I did it on a tablet I'm using at the moment which goes really slowly and now it's fucking gone. I'd written something about motion, and how once we had dismantled the ideas of destinations, stations etc we then had to move on and destroy movement. It contained an apology: Sorry I have to keep writing in English, I don't know anything else. If you're like me then you know how it feels. You are unable to express anything of how you are feeling because you are stuck in the most  restrictive destructive history there is, and the language has been tightly programmed to disallow. Magic.

The critique of stations is a critique of their composition. There is no station without the rationale that allows it, that proceeds into it. Movement is the same. Everything you say, do, think is a form of obedience. Even, and in fact ESPECIALLY when you contradict a summation with its supposed opposite. And so we go back to the beginning and start a new set of manifestos to try and comprehend this terrifying idea; that we have zero potential, that there is zero potential and that it is reasonable to say that there is no cosmos. Everything, all of the proof of it I am given I cannot fully comprehend or understand. Things might seem reasonable, but so many things do.

The only thing that constantly asserts itself as a material proof at the moment are the scabs on my skin, and the mysterious itching that comes to me in my bed. It's pathetic, but I can't go to the doctor because it feels like being totally denounced, like my number will be up, they will get me and try to cure me and they can't and I fucking hate them and know they must be depended on and it is not them I hate I am just so fucking scared of the smallest things sometimes and I still can't open my mouth properly. You move your children away from me but they were smiling at me and nothing was wrong. Magic, magic, magic. Do not trust yourself, your instincts  or conclusions. Fuck knowledge too.

Verity.



                                                    tgrf   ye  94u8p t l

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