We’re always talking about it – our … relationship … such as it is … such as it isn’t. It’s … parasitical. Lovers always talk about their love. It’s smugness. We’re pleased with ourselves. Pleased with what has been given us, by way of the other. In our little bubble of love.
We think we’ve escaped the world, but love is part of the world. It’s just a little … give in the world. It’s a little leeway. It’s what we’re given as freedom – as a taste of freedom. But it’s still part of the illusion – and perhaps the worst part. Because it entangles us more deeply.
We’re trapping ourselves. We’re being trapped – by nature. It’s nature’s honey trap. Nature’s seduction trap. Which is how it opens as apparent freedom what is really only a deeper form of servitude.
Nature’s thrown us a treat. We’re supposed to be grateful. To moon over one another in gratitude. When really it’s part of the whole machine.
Love isn’t part of the machine: that’s what we think. That’s what we’re supposed to think. We fool ourselves. We want to be fooled.
Our disgrace. We should fall to our knees … and …
And what?
Pray to be released from the world. Its traps – its snares. Pray for an opening … Don’t we want out? Sure we want out. We want the exit. And that’s what we want in love. We want to be an exodus for one another. A way out of the trap. When really it’s another part of the trap …
It’s the honey trap. Nature’s honey trap. That’s what it’s called isn’t it: when they lure you in via someone pretty. Some hottie specifically sent out to target you. Nature wants us trapped. Confined. Seeking all our salvation from another, when in fact … the only salvation comes from outside.
Outside what?
This world. This life. This … universe of death.
The stupidity of lovers. We think this is an exception. That we’ve been given all this as a special gift to us. All these feelings … This elation … This craving … This very sane madness. This rational irrationality. This law-abiding prohibition. Which happens to virtually everyone. To which all of us succumb. That lifts us all up. And up to what?
God. aren’t we lucky? we think. Why can’t everyone be as lucky as us? Until we become evangelists of love. Trying to pair all our friends up. Telling people the story of our romance. How we got together. Our ur-story. About when the world relented. When the remorseless logic of it all just pulled back for a few moments. When we were granted an apparent reprieve.
And now we think we know what the world is about. What things really are. As if everything had been revealed to us anew. As if for the first time. The world, all aglow. Colours, more vivid. The sky, a little wider … It’s a con …
Our story … how we escaped. How we weren’t subject to all the laws. How it wasn’t just the same old for us. We think we’ve been elected. Saved. Lifted above the fray. Because Nature wants us to make more of ourselves. Nature wants the multiplication of Nature.
I don’t want to be subjected to this body.
But you like to fuck.
I don’t like to like to fuck. I don’t like to like to eat. I don’t like to like to be subject to anything.
You hate your body.
I like your body. But I don’t like to like your body. Why do we have to be like this?
You mean why aren’t we pure spirits, floating free. Angels, or whatever.
Sure – fucking angels. I’d like to be an angel.
We’re so meta. We’re meta lovers. I blame it on philosophy. All your philosophy. You can’t just experience stuff. You can’t just give yourself over to things.
I’m not an animal, you mean.
Work in Progress 