you are fuckable, life is proof.
and now, finally, when the Arabian Sea has rained all her cum over me, i find my voice. Covid cases are on the rise again and i’m not scared of even rain.
You know what's confusing? Different people's ‘normal’s. Covid blasted that logic open, pushing the concept of a ‘new normal’ into the collective consciousness. That normal- the very essence of statehood- was truly devoid of divinity. For better or worse, that changed everything.
Can I ask you what's normal for you? Or is that too postmodern? Will you feel that queer pressure to say ‘everything goes’? Is it political correct to have normals? Where does everything go?
Perhaps it is the pain of learning how to make decisions with unfamiliar people that makes us conservative, lazy, and invest more in the ones we know. How long must children roam distances until they settle down? Where do you find God?
Katyayini and I are often quoting each other's thoughts at each other. Often unnervingly, so. Actually, scratch that- nervingly so. I think again about the ease of falling in love with some people.
But anyway, she said, “I think some of us just don't want to grow up.”
And then, as she often does, spoke possible doubts out loud- what if that's like never being a real person? I offered timidly that we were real people too.
Children are real people too should not be that controversial of a thing to say. This does not stop people from bashing the French Philosophers that signed a petition for lowering the age of consent in 1977. That the age of consent is lowered, from a purely legislative perspective, still emphasises the imperative for consent. This is often completely missed.
It is one thing to not trust law enforcement and imagine misuse. But these are different issues. Children, wiser than most of us, communicate way more than many of us are comfortable listening to. The work needed is not of the law. The work needed is of bringing greater discernment into the languages of consent.
Our greater challenge is criminalising marital rape.
Lately, I've been thinking about what separates adults as a class from children. (If that wasn't obvious). I’m coming to realise that it is the acute realisation that we are all capable of loving and pleasuring each other. And we can figure it all out in a few words. And even fewer gestures. And the anxiety of that freedom, coupled with a little trauma and heartbreak, can easily put us in a conservative impulse to reproduce order. The Great Order of Reproduction. And at that junction, we find a law, a God; we invent mini-theocracies that grow and sprial, like viruses, that mutate and adapt in a Web of Echo Chambers. Cogs in a machine that kills, we do the work of the State. This is the disposition of a good half of the people we call adults today. And we can't just line them up and shoot them unfortunately. We can, however, refuse to grow up.
the only thing growing up is my nonexistent dick