Thursday, August 8, 2013

THE DEMON QUEEN

She hated snow white  with all her heart. Yet she loved her. The moment when her being was suffused with loathsomeness for the snow white's  insouciance was, simultaneously , also the point in time wherein she berated herself for feeling warmth trickle through her at the prospect of a soldering. Yet enclosed within the sheathe of power as she was all she could do was sublimate her desire, cast of the incandescent warmth and substitute it with coldness, impassivity and downright hatred. Hatred for her own unactualized desire, brewing disaffection and unrealized cravings.

When she thus internalized snow white  as a melancholic being as a constant reminder of her own inadequacy she succumbed to the irresistible pleasures of narcissism. By transmuting herself, her beauty onto the snow white  and by projecting her beauty of herself she communed with the mirror where what she saw was both her yet not her. Her failure of perception lay in her misrecognition that what she was was her.

The love she felt for the snow white turned into hatred. Each time she plumbed the surface of her being she encountered a facsimile of herself and the growing luminosity of snow white  whose burgeoning femininity and growing womanhood counterpointed her desiccation and withering. Even the mirror refused to lie and confer a patina of assurance. When faced thus with a growing awareness of her descent into nothingness she grasped at hatred as a bulwark against chaos, against indeterminate non being. And it was, after all love, reconfigured and transmogrified into deep seated repugnance. The object of love became a subject of annihilation.

She strove to obliterate traces of snow white's  existence. She devised ingenious ways to remove traces of the ingenuous young girl. Once she disguised herself and fed her poisoned apples. Snow white , meanwhile, seeking shelter with the dwarves had tried to construct an alternate life which was snuffed out by the queen unless the prospect of a kiss would awaken her and bring her back to life.

Meanwhile the queen, repentant and grieving began mourning for snow white . Her listless melancholy wasn't sublimated but subverted. In seeking expiation through self destruction by destroying the other she coiled in around herself, disconsolate, a living corpse. Her flesh sagged, her skin grew wrinkled as drooping flesh hung from it. Her teeth began rotting. Her sight diminished. Yet she lived on with the grim hope of a renaissance. Exculpation had replaced retribution. Revenge was substituted by yearning desire.

She longed for reacquaintance with snow white  who had been a repository of profound love and self hatred. Guilty of sin, desirous of punishment she gave up all hopes for a protracted emptiness of being. But she longed, for once, to kiss the embalmed countenance of the girl, to partake, retroactively and irrecoverably, a remnant of the vision that had enraptured and eventually robbed her of happiness. Visiting the glass case where she lay , unflanked by mediators who would forbid and obstruct such a desire as hers, she lifted the lid and kissed snow white on the lips.

At once snow white's recumbent eyelids fluttered. She woke up and kissed the queen back. The wrinkles vanished, the contours of flesh of the queen unfurled and stretched into unlined young, unpuckered, seamless flesh.

They traverse the garden in the opalescent glow of dusk . They live happily.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

THE FIRE AND THE MIRROR

She disrobes before the mirror/pool in the enchanted forest , unraveling rippling folds of integument. She divests herself of the appendages that made her what she is and dons, momentarily, the pure undistilled essence of being. She is a tabula rasa, a palimpsest from whose being being itself has been erased. Indeterminate hieroglyphs abound, waiting to be transcribed, sheathed to the grand narrative of a larger being into which, eventually, she is to mold herself, reconfiguring into a part to fit a whole, a singularity to blend with the collective. Yet importunately she resists this foreclosure , expecting that, thus disrobed, a glimpse into the mirror/pool would yield some bulwark wherein her being, being as herself, would materialize and embalm fluidly her protean being.

For she has just been through an ordeal through fire . By some abstruse lacuna in metaphysics she has survived. But survived what? A proof that the being she was held to be was the being she was. A validation that her being, divorced from becoming, conferred sanctity. A anomaly that her being seen as being was actually a negation of being, a relinquishment of selfhood and an abnegation of identity. She traverses eldritch realms of fortuitousness, she navigates the maze of her inessential femininity only to arrive in this lonesome spot, before the mirror/pool, where the pool of being reflects an absence, an impasse, a zone of non being.

Yet absence contains, within its interstices, the potentiality of becoming. In this disgorging the accoutrements of her enclosures she repudiates the being conferred on her. In being an absence she circumnavigates the circumscription of what defines her to arrive at an anterior beginning which is where she,in collusion with structures of telos,predicates her daguerrotyped singularity.

However a wistfulness for anteriority doesn't yield a symbolic being for her to merge with. In fact, in thus staring the mirror she is suffused with a sense of infinite possibilities. She sees herself as self contained yet self creating. She can reconoitre the enclosed definitions and ,in thus, iridescently agleam in the pellucid moonlight, with the moon casting ricocheted refractions around the silvered rim of the mirror, be what she wants to be, be what she becomes.

The fire had left encrustations and indentations that engirdled her soul. In the forest, before the mirror/pool she obliterates the dross, reconstitutes and begins afresh.