Discordian Tenderness - Second Manifesto

for Fern

(after Sappho)

Discord, the blast
                                 mirror
the magic columns,, tenderness does not. There is nothing but the void. The genderless chain of exactitude.. : pin,, "there is nothing
                               but the void" is tireless, tenderness is the gaping void. Is the entropic frontier is this joke called the cosmos is this implacable enemy,, easy the way that leads to the void. The void will loom eternal and intact.
                                                   (Hair)

    Void.
    Intact.
    Wasp.

The precinct of the void is a mirror, the mirror of the precinct, the void.

Some say there are no enemies, no oppositions. They are hacks and liars. Enemies. Your violence is in panic at the void. Violence to us is that we represent it: shreds and blots of the void dapple us. We are feared. We sometimes remain silent in public because our voices will out us. Afraid in this moment. Of physical attack. The void is full and empty. The world is slated with opposites and estrangements. We are gambled for and over. Subjects of the Gay Masters. Our bodies, occupied buildings. Private sectors. I fear those that gamble against our lives. I Hail Discordia those that gamble us against them. Throw an apple at a cop: The queered void is grounded in the free.

Discord & Tenderness - First Manifesto

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tenderness is not the capacity to feel. Tenderness is not lost on you. It is not a supplement for solitude. It doesn’t leave you, but wants you. And in it there is a world of sounds and sound’s ecstatic lack. It is not ordered but proceeds from its mirror world. Tenderness doesn’t leave you at the pitch of your desires, it doesn’t make an argument for or against any new or ceasing world. Tenderness is not a flag: It falls in discordant parts and shapes, heaping up in cheaper disproportions and you sing there, or not. Remain in the lack of its shape, sound; the blast mirror where decay is; it is there, in decay also there is tenderness. In lack there is everything, all given choices promised in the absence of all. Does not linger too long in the realm of parenthood, in the body. But tenderness is, with resistance, with bodies, without them. Tenderness is; rested and illusory.  

And discord is not merely a raised voice, a priapic lung, a red gesturing sack of cheeks and turning whites of eyes. Discord, lush engulf of sadness, broken waters of sky. Violence is there, inside and over,, it is not a Détournement; we’ve not hijacked language. We live there, between the closed walls, the symbolic, the real, the imaginary: All ligatures, heaving our bodies screaming into the order of words. You’ve not taken the violence  and horror in order to disarm it. It is. You are. There are no tourniquets. What it means it means despite you. Discord denies this, denies us; me: Useless impartial anti-voice. Discord is not an idol, neither a mystery, neither a horror. It is horror and joy, supplemented, mirrored,, the mirrors shredded in teeth it is your spit,, my eye with it brimmed. Those corners of un-closable love, and for us all.

Manifesto (10.07.2016 - After Wolf Kid)

Manifesto.

The next time someone gives me that kind of shit, I don't know what I'll do. Probably cower like some polite little scab. But here it is. People assuming your entirety, as a fetish object, a novelty, a commodity. Telling me I'm "brave", that I should be myself no matter what etc. Telling me you're an "ally", be your fucking self like some stupid pithy little mantra that would save me from violence if only I could remember it. Don't assume a thing. I might even be armed. Don't ask me your stupid fucking questions. If you can't treat a person like a person, if your guilt has rolled you into yet another piece of self shaming and self serving violence then that is yours to live with. It holds you and guides you, helps you find more and more lives to objectify,,,, crawling around the room begging for forgiveness; STOP, wondering aloud why it is that what you think you think and feel doesn't seem to manifest. Guilt is hatred. Self hatred turned to hatred of the "other" (as you say) the "invisible" (as you way). We are unified. Your unity is with the ideology of division, social chastity and self aggrandising tokenism. Come see us Wolf Kids, ask for our experiences served up in neat consumable liberal packaging. Tick the box. Assume and categorise our identities. Move on; STOP. Come near us again, start grabbing at hair, recite our racial, sexual and gendered histories back to us. Oh, thank you. I never fucking knew. Or perhaps don't, because we've been here for ten billion years, we'll rip off your face or something. Free yourself of your guilt. Free us from your guilt. Free us from guilt. Triton is a blue line; STOP.