Untutored Knots

Six witnesses have reported that the event was very shocking. Six others claimed they felt empowered. Four remained silent and two grimaced for the camera.

He never had any to begin with and did not miss its loss.

And the refrain: three blind mice.

It is the search to find what connects these three: how a body touches and lacks story.

I keep family pictures on my laptop. My walls are bare. According to the techno-awareness of a previous generation, the lack of a prominently displayed family narrative indicates some kind of social pathology. (See how easy it is to pathologize, and, more precisely, queer)

I hide my family like a cheating husband.

Yet, for our times, the computer would be the first place to check for such items.

Temporal drag.

‘thin is thin’

The difference between an accumulation of fragments and an accumulation of debris.

I have been watching Hallmark Channel, demographic senior citizen. Much like its demographic, it has sound problems. The channel sound is turned so low that I have to turn the tv all the way up. This is how we convince the old they have hearing problems. Yet another conspiracy.

The ipod generation will be deaf much earlier than their parents.

There might be a kind of narrative that resembles untutored knots.

* * *
A recent review of a work in queer studies complains that in paying attention to practices such as fisting and erotic vomiting, some queer theorists disregard the quotidian difficulties of sex lives. It sounds so commonsensical: intimacy is difficult, isn’t this the point of queer studies?

No.

Queer studies centers homosexual practices, in all their perversity precisely to note the function of metonymy that attaches to homosexuality—unlike anything else. This is what is important: unlike anything else. I come to this realization after years of struggling against what I take to be the Euro-American privileging of a certain idea of sexuality. Only to realize, finally, the centrality of the homosexual, indeed, the inescapable, unavoidable importance of this figure to modern ideas of sexuality. (This ghost that haunts the modern production of blackness by African authors.)

This figure that, in African writing, must be approached from the back.

* * *
Finally, Othello.

When I first heard the expression “beast with two backs” I instinctively, queered it. I could not imagine, at the time, two bodies engaged in missionary sex. I imagined a tortoise with a shell on its back. (“Rhohert has a house on his head,” sings Jean Toomer.)

Perhaps, like me, Othello lacked fluency in eye-language, seeing a range of flat and unusual tones with as much meaning as colored salts.

It is this lack of fluency I have been trying to put into language, my only assured knowledge being that salts have different flavors.