Wednesday, February 6, 2008

at my golden age, to begin here | at the base of a twine knot at my back where she pinched, the gentle touch | and my need to cry and laugh and purge.

I've been in a rut, a writing rut, so much so that even typing this entry seemed like medieval torture.

This is not because I can't think of anything to say. It's actually the complete opposite... I know exactly what I want to say, and somehow I can't find the means to say it. My writing is totally illegible.

I've started to think that this writing-gangrene has somehow infected the rest of my body, from my eyes, to my mouth.

This is the way the disease progresses, in case anyone else has developed symptoms and wishes to self-diagnose.

Symptoms: You lose the ability to say what you really mean. You find yourself not only saying things you don't mean, but meaning things you don't say, and even saying things without meaning to. The worst manifestation of this starts as truncated thoughts, abbreviated conversations, and ends with full-blown silence.

Case study 1 --

Class at run-of-the-mill alternative, liberal, rural, undergraduate private college. Small setting; 15 or so students present. A conversation about the political primary is started by the professor. A question is posed: How much faith do we, as students, have in the electoral process? Do we believe that we can actually create change through capitalist government processes? Several students, whom identify as anarchists, claim that they will not vote, because the primary elections cannot be used as fuel to power a substantial political revolution. At this point, a female student (white) begins to tell a personal narrative as evidence to support her view (how unique and unprecedented) that voting can help create positive change. In telling the story, she relays how she traveled to Cambridge, MA., to vote with her hometown friend. They exited the polling place, received their "I voted!" stickers, and decided to grab a bite to eat. They caravaned to a nearby town to eat, (EDIT: from this point on these are HER descriptives, not mine.) where in a convenience store, she came across a woman she described as "an Indian lady, who didn't speak a word of English". The woman grabbed her sleeve, and pointed to the sticker on the girls jacket. (at this moment, the storyteller launched into an exaggerated "accent" which she considered "Indian". in regards to its accuracy, i choose to defer to any basic high school geography class.) The woman, pointing, and according to the storyteller, started yelling "You vote-ay! I vote-ay! Bring me vote-ay!" The girl asked the woman: "Are you a legal citizen?" and the woman said: "Of course! Yes, I have papers! Take me vote-ay!" The girl, feeling personally responsible for the "poor, lost woman", took her back to the same polling place she had voted at, and waited for the woman to finish voting. She ended the the story by saying: "And just looking at her, she was so happy just to be allowed to vote. It was really inspiring. She was obviously so empowered by it."

I found myself suddenly unable to speak. If I could have, I supposed I would have found myself without the means to express at that moment why/how I felt the anecdote was so patronizing and offensive (and smelling a lot like ... subtle racism?). In fact, I found myself unable to identify whether it was appropriate to call the speaker out.

This is not the only Case Study which has presented itself in this area. Its also not the only manifestation of this same inability to communicate effectively. Saying too little. Saying too much. Speaking one sentence when thinking another. Entire verses speaking through eyes instead of lips. Wires crossed. It seems to affect more than once facet of the body(ies).

Treatment: Doctors used to apply leeches when they believed the blood contained toxins which needed to be let. Priests perform exorcisms to rid penitents of the devil's playthings. Surgeons drill holes into the skulls on their operating tables to relieve the brain of fluid pressure.
The only treatment is to relieve the pressure, to exorcise, to let it. (Out.)

This will not be easy. First, a diagnosis, and then, figuring out which treatments are optimal, and which just exacerbate the problem. Migrating to a warmer climate? A plan of attack? Ignoring the problem? (The last option seems like the least likely solution.) And how do you feel a change? How does a doctor know when the patient has the tools to continue therapies on their own? Can we relearn, regain the ability to speak; did we never know how to in the first place? Is there a prescription for silence?

I say this hypothetically.

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