“Do You Have A Dildo?”

The question marks a performance that has always started before it begins, a question deferred, unacknowledged as worth asking. To hear it spoken aloud is to hear the air sigh, tear, attempt to knit itself together.

Accompanying it: do you have a bible?
In this space, one can buy one and not the other.

“Do you have a dildo?” asked in a university—do you have one now, for use, available. And what would it mean to produce one, to have one on hand, to slide it from receptive hand to receptive hand, to mark hands as dildo-sharing hands.

This becomes a performance
about
a missing dildo
*
We assemble on institutional steps, in the shadow of a library, facing a public square where a person writes on a small chalkboard. The chalkboard faces away from us. The wind will blow it all over. The spitting rain will drag tears through the chalk. But this, this we will only know later. For now, we watch writing.

Rocks pour from a
bag. One will be
thrown into the
crowd, the action
familiar: one
winces in
recognition.
This is called
stoning.
Hurling rocks.
A carrot is being shaved, a knife held too close to a neck. Red ink pours over a Holy Bible. (We travel in circles and loops to locate a shop where this can be bought, wayward, unable to find the direct line, the straight line, the proper line that leads easily from here to here—the bible
becomes a wayward object

A carrot is being shaved in public, situated between a person’s legs—circumcision becomes castration in this public domestic, becomes the failure of both to produce bodies that can be pleasured: a few of us know this is also an attempt to shape a dildo, and it will not form: frustration attends this deferral of form, this impossibility of/for pleasure—a question forms and lingers

(do YOU have a dildo?)
*
Red ink pours over a Holy Bible—blood is everywhere indicated, the circumcised body, the menstruating body, the violated body, the bleeding body, the body made and unmade in blood-soaked pages, in smite-imaginations, in imagined

abominations                                                                 the word “GAY”
appears in the scrawl                                         smeared in a Holy
Bible made                                     sacred                     via embedding
(intimate             profanity                 a voice murmurs that fuck might have been written—it is not clear)

inkredhandsbloodredhandsinkbloodhandsreachout

A bible is torn, pages crumpled, folded, ripped, undone—a body attacks this bodyattacking book, this book that makes attackpossible, this attackenabling book

pages drift
stick on wet pavement
(my notes smear in the spitting rain)

The board is turned to face a watching audience, an enthralled audience, a waiting audience

THERE WAS NO I AFRICANS!

*
Performance remains as fragments: snapping cameras, indifferent laughter, a stranger’s passing comment: one must suspend much to “be” in the performance—to track its desire, recognize its hungers
*
A knife slices a carrot