My subconscious is not a nice place to be in. It is in fact a dark, sickening mess. When I get into that zone, my conscious life feels like a distant, happy, dream that I see only when I get high. The real deal is this frightening realm of the subconscious, where Eros and Thanatos are locked in eternal combat, where fear of death and obsession with sex play themselves out in convoluted trajectories.
In this other world, I can hear myself think. My thoughts come thick and fast, uncoordinated and uncorrelated, violent and profound, and their strength and clarity frighten the hell out of me. I suddenly believe in life after death, religion seems true, hell seems like a logical destination. I think about sex a lot. No, it's not a pornographic video playing in my mind, that would at least be more comforting - this is like the weirdest, the most frightening thoughts about Sex which I dare not think in my waking hours : the lines around my sexual preferences and even identity are blurred. I think of a woman's body and feel like I know it a lot more intimately than a man's...we all are physically intimate with our mothers, as children. Damn, we even spend nine months inside her. Positively Oedipal. A woman's body is then familiar and boring. Wouldn't it be natural for men then to seek each other out, to know the mysterious workings of another male body? An Oedipal justification for male homoeroticism? Interesting.
I realize that my dislikes, the things that annoy and irritate me the most, are really the things I like the most, at some perverse, subconscious level, and hate myself for liking. All the thoughts that I gloss over out of a sense of political correctness to myself, are really my most intense. Most of them are not nice. The prejudices and insecurities that I do not tolerate in others, and tend to make light of, are the ones that afflict me the most.
When in the zone, everything on this side seems wrong, contradictory and dishonest. Love and hope seem like the only robust emotions there, whose tethers I then desperately cling on to - to fight the fear of death, and ultimate annihilation.
In this other world, I can hear myself think. My thoughts come thick and fast, uncoordinated and uncorrelated, violent and profound, and their strength and clarity frighten the hell out of me. I suddenly believe in life after death, religion seems true, hell seems like a logical destination. I think about sex a lot. No, it's not a pornographic video playing in my mind, that would at least be more comforting - this is like the weirdest, the most frightening thoughts about Sex which I dare not think in my waking hours : the lines around my sexual preferences and even identity are blurred. I think of a woman's body and feel like I know it a lot more intimately than a man's...we all are physically intimate with our mothers, as children. Damn, we even spend nine months inside her. Positively Oedipal. A woman's body is then familiar and boring. Wouldn't it be natural for men then to seek each other out, to know the mysterious workings of another male body? An Oedipal justification for male homoeroticism? Interesting.
I realize that my dislikes, the things that annoy and irritate me the most, are really the things I like the most, at some perverse, subconscious level, and hate myself for liking. All the thoughts that I gloss over out of a sense of political correctness to myself, are really my most intense. Most of them are not nice. The prejudices and insecurities that I do not tolerate in others, and tend to make light of, are the ones that afflict me the most.
When in the zone, everything on this side seems wrong, contradictory and dishonest. Love and hope seem like the only robust emotions there, whose tethers I then desperately cling on to - to fight the fear of death, and ultimate annihilation.
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1 comment:
:) story of our lives?
Long long time since I last visited
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