The Undertow

I am not Leaving, You are the one who showed me the Ocean

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but the whole album

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for the archives

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Two Poems by V. Originally published 23 August 2016.

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we don’t come from nothing

somewhere there is something

[ostolero]

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Triple Canopy – Preliminary Materials for a Theory of the Young-Girl by Tiqqun

“Seduction is the new opium of the masses.” On love under Empire.

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Shared with Dropbox

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Friendship…is as old as political power itself...Our current fixation on friendship is a form of escape. An escape from the yoke of political relevance. A vacation from the responsibilities we all of a sudden just have now. Relief from the tiresome and repetitive thoughts in our heads. A sanctuary from the tyrannical values of patriarchy, capitalism, and the state.

from this

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Introducing The Celibacy Issue: Not Doing It

This is The Celibacy Issue where we realize we never did The Sex Issue because we’d rather talk about not-sex.

“But, being all third wave about it, and staying positive about sex feels increasingly tiring, like more unpaid work, work most people I know can’t afford to do. So, instead, maybe I’ll remember these years as a time when very few of my friends were actually having sex. Many people who I love who sell sex or used to, say that they feel like they can never stop performing, and can’t have sex in other contexts anymore. Most people I hang out with treat “sex positivity” as if it were an out-of-season jacket. Go home, and change, I just can’t be seen with you wearing last season’s sexual discourse. We know that more sex is not better sex, and there’s probably not such a thing as radical sex. Speaking of discourse markets, somebody on Twitter said, “being sexual is so much more important than having sex.” But to be honest, this kind of distinct knowledge production around sexuality still feels performative and exhausting. You would still have to pay me to think about it that way.”

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i’m not crying, you’re crying

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the most desolate stretches of highway surround me when I say I am home stretching out like the sorest of arms through the heat reaching to the sea grasping towards a life that was never mine towards my ghosts in the thickest darkest pines where the moon dappled snow takes the form of a hearts deepest fears they can find you in your room under the covers with all the lights on it doesn't matter thousands of miles only makes them stronger I fell in love with the shadow you cast it enveloped the whole coast it let me remain exiled by nothing married to escape I had hoped to wake up in the morning as oh something else anything anything else oh the undertow grasps at my ankles and I'm tumbling I remain spinning through the dark to stay out at sea where there is no easy answer and I am only me and the foam on the waves isn't safe but it's something like home it's a process we've been told but legends of comfort are haunting our bones it doesn't matter trying to change only makes it harder I fell in love with ideas of boys salvation disgust validation and pain take my awful body wrap me in lace and drench me in honey diving back into the salt we are safe no boys allowed can this just be my place? scream under water bubbles come out is this tears or laughter? mom I'm so sorry I can't be your girl I am a strange creature of sadness and words but I am not leaving you are the one who showed me the ocean

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there’s no legible self i can evoke when you go away

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BURNITALLDOWN.pdf

BURN IT ALL DOWN: AN ANTIFASCIST SPELLBOOK BY THE YERBAMALA COLLECTIVE

SHARE DOWNLOAD SHARE DOWNLOAD & MAKE YR OWN <3S

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The past does not pass away.  Because the war continues.                            

Everything social has become foreign to us.                          

This is our need for nocturnal spaces.                   

How to stay at war without losing tenderness? It’s a technical issue. Not a problem. Problems are profitable.                            

A politics of taking place.

Empire has no place. Empire is everywhere nothing is happening.  It administrates absence by waving the palpable threat of police intervention everywhere.                        

To be seen now means to be crushed.                       

What we need: An expansive constellation... and the whole thing linked together by an intense circulation of bodies, and of emotions between bodies.

Human strike: tiqqun: Which never attacks the relations of production without attacking at the same time the emotional relationships that sustain them. 

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oh, the unspeakable things 

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“ If your witchcraft, like mine, speaks with animal spirits, is made from plants and flowers and roots and bark and seeds, it cannot continue to pretend that we are not suffering. It has to speak. It has to lament, it has to cry, it has to then be unreasonable. We need to be intimately acquainted with death, as these are the rites over which our witchcraft presides, not some nudist holiday camp capers predicated on a glut of cheap oil.”

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