January 17

Rots on Marianna Maruyama's Deep Body Massage

Why not just have sex?

your ass on the table
in the middle. four hundred eyes
my eyes at your feet -
there are lines on your feet
from the ankle to the toes
you wear tight socks 
lay down 
black towel 
I see you hear
I see white pants 
Why not just have sex?
Being moving speaking 
Language moving 
you or is it just his body?
his hands 
his cute dutch accent 
read off 
I hear white a4 
paper trembling
organs learning
organs yearning
yes yes 
language moves 
trough my body
We are  
agreeing on common questions
are we?
his knees your ass
your art. stop!
he sniffing 
I am sick too.
where are you - where am I?
never love 
never heard anybody say sexuality 
so robotically 
More intimate is: 
my leg falling asleep, crouching in the crowded gym
massage me only
with language
Filling all the gaps 
my gaps?

with language
translation involves the body 
yes yes
is it time to speak up 
Stop body stop
full body
full stop

Rots on Erin Manning’s Not at a Distance: On Touch Synaesthesia and Other Ways of Knowing

A Whole New World

While brushing my teeth yesterday evening, I heard the brushing sound scrub into my ears. I tried not to hear: come on! Feel the sensation of the tooth brush in my mouth over my tongue, between my gums. Close my eyes: now I realise my back is against the wall, which immediatly convinces me it is cold. I push my back onto the plastered stone harder, brushing. Erin Manning activates a subtraction of what I perceive in the following days; opening my eyes would be a strange way to put it, but nontheless the thought experiment, of me being blind and deaf makes me curl up against walls and try to touch my brother’s backache with my hands, my fingers turned into pain recepting antennas. Erin reminds me of my fondness for softness. Now thinking about whom I touch and how we touch and who I don’t and why I won’t. What we tell each other when we touch. Pip, whom I’ve known since she was a kitten, strokes her back against my leg, now pushes her head against my ankle. I stroke her fur trough my fingers but she caresses me. Each sense being a different dimension or world seeking other words, presents me with new ideas of communicating.  A whole new world as Alladin would put it, and a very insightful one. One of colour smell spice synesthesia dancing with its eyes closed order trough odor for me forever a reminder of all the light I cannot see.