Friday, 29 July 2016
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.