Ruin: I must say that there is a part of me that wants to be pushed towards mortality to make me wake up and describe it. But it is like trying to describe Infinity. I have to stop worrying about being bad at it. How could one not be?
Rack: I love the drag. We’re beyond bad now. That and looming death might put a fire under our arses. Though you’ve always had a Bunsen burning nearby it seems to me, which has inspired my devotion.
Ruin: Fire under me arse, and fire up me arse, all in a day’s aspiring. I like that 'me' in place of the 'my', I like that soft sound of the possessing, possessed, self. I will get on with priming the old bunsen and see how far we can get. "Happy International Glory Hole Day 2023!" . Someone, a ribald lady-friend, just sent me that greeting. I still think a gloryhole set up in every retirement home might be a plan I could fall (get) behind.
It could have been something I might have given my whole-hearted support to, even, testosterone-free charity work, as a part-time 'care in the community' voluntary worker with consideration given to energy reserves, and the time left.
If the truth be told, there will be no time for those shenanigans, and I must say that I love being inviolate, impenetrable, with those ramparts up, steaming ahead. This is, as always, the best part of life so far, though I do dread possible discomfort down the line. I love that all those cravings have fallen away, that liberation. Of course there are always other 'drivers', more subtle ones even. They would have to be more subtle than ‘sex’, wouldn't they, but then what isn’t?
It’s one of the big ones, like aspirations that define success and failure, another one, that career drive, that wanting recognition. Yes, it is more subtle, but it is there, accompanied by that chimera, ‘Posterity’. That takes us back to GBS, and his “The best lack all conviction, while the worst. Are full of passionate intensity.”, and that constantly not knowing if one is the ‘best’ or the ‘worst’, or just out and out mediocre, failing in both directions.
I somehow think we have to be indifferent to all that. The idea being to just say one’s piece, in all its whatever (best, worst, or mediocre) with absolute indifference to cause or reactions. Just try to explain something to yourself, put it down, and move forward, recognising that the very idea of directions in infinity is absurd anyway.
There is no up, there is no down, no 'best no 'worst', there just is is.
A Rrose is a Rrose.
P.S. Dolly asked me to mention that Rrose is wearing a fake-fur wrap (by Lanech, of course). Dolly is never sheepish in coming forward about that sort of thing. Though he/she/they assert/s that there is no such thing as backward or forward.
