Saturday, February 1, 2014

THE ROBBER BRIDE

Father wants me to marry. I am inconsolable with worry. My heart palpates requiems of irretrievability as the prospect of marriage looms nearer. And someone has agreed to marry me, a rather dubious young man. I look askance at his narrow set eyes, i shudder in revulsion at the thought of proximity to him. There's something sly, furtive, underhand about him and i find that disagreeable. Were these imperfections or rather vices solely my own prejudices i would have reconsidered such a judgment but as it is my being, who i am, inclines and orients me in such a direction that men become, ipso facto, loathsome as subjects of desire.

He directed me to his house deep in the forest. I acquiesced, having no choice in the matter. He had scattered ashes but i took peas with me, suspecting the putative guilelessness of his spurious charm. The woods, the dark forest suffuse me with premonitory forebodings. A feeling of apocalyptic disaster looms and i am unable to relinquish the vertiginousness it induces in me. But i trudge on, hoping that my fears would be baseless and my anxieties unfounded.

The moment i reach the house i see an old woman. Her  hair gleams snowily white. Finely wrought, filigree webbed but at a distance imperceptible wrinkles striate her. Her lips, gleaming red in the moonlight exude significations of ripeness. Her dark dress, studded with broken mirrors gleams refractory slivers of light in all directions. She tells me about how the robbers would come and annihilate me and roast me and eat me up. She tells me she can save me. I hide behind a barrel. The robbers carry another girl with them whom they proceed to eviscerate and consume with undisguised relish. They had , before consuming her, seen a ring on her finger which they cut and the finger flew into my lap. Too tired to search they go to sleep, under the soporific effect of the sleeping draught the old woman insidiously inveigles into their tankards.

While these nocturnal murderers slumber unbeknownst we escape. We traverse the miles i had come from, we retrace and retract the steps i took to reach this inferno. The peas guide us back. I reach my village and tell my father the entire story, a verbatim account of everything that occurred. My father takes the old woman's gnarled hand and kisses her. 'You have saved me daughter' says he 'You may do with her as you wish'. The old woman slips out the ring from the dead girl's cut finger and fits it to the palm of my hand. We kiss and tie the knot. 

Thursday, January 30, 2014

INDUCING THE SHIVERS

Even though royalty constitutes me i balk at the blandishments of aristocracy. I think it is because i am anomalous. I seem to like and love romantically people of my own gender. Undoubtedly such an incongruous choice would incite contempt but i see nothing in it to be ashamed of. My father is largely and unexpectedly supportive and that buoys me up, the knowledge of it mitigating the harshness and recalcitrance i would otherwise have to confront

So when i heard about this young man who wanted to face fear and get the shivers i was excited at the possibility. Some instinct, hitherto unguessed at told me, in a very primal way what it was that i would have to do. I anticipated with insatiable curiosity and corporeality the presence of this young man on whom by inducing the shivers i would precipitate an actualizing of my own shivers. It was like a mirror image reflecting itself to itself but imbued with a profundity and depth.

Well he's come and i've taken him to my room. I can instantly predict that what constitutes him is lack of knowledge, a lack he has consciously repressed. With awareness comes attendant fear. Fear needn't be terror, it can be thrilling to, infusing every pore in the body with ripples of unexpected pleasure.

For the first two days our interchanges were wordless. It wasn't an uncommunicative lack of wordiness but i believe that silence and quietude can give access to forms of knowing that loquacity and garrulousness disallow. He, in response to my, self contained, ejaculated intermittent interjections of surprise. I had taken on the accoutrements of a mirror and reflected him back to himself. The mirror doesn't lie but the imposition of subjective aegis can lead to dissembling. But he, in a state of unknowingness found the mirror throwing up significations and mnemonics he couldn't resist. The tabula rasa of his consciousness was filling up, spilling over yet he lacked a language to articulate with exactitude what it was that he had learned.

On the third day i undressed him and myself. I was seeking to incite bodily engorgement to make palpably realizable the knowledge he had gathered. His liquid eyes glowed with a lustrousness i found irresistible. Every aperture, every crevice of his soul was irradiating while his fulcrum was tumescent. In that fulcrum lay both the prick and the heart. When sufficiently aroused he turned me over. He was shivering uncontrollably with passion, energy and his integument sloughed off beads of sweat like rain drops. We kissed.

I had finally induced the shivers and knew with certainty that the accompaniment of other fears, both of terror and of transcendence would be a part of his lot. My task is done. 

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

ACTUALIZING THE SHIVERS

He had tried out numerous possibilities yet fear circumvented him. He longed to experience fear, experience the experience of fear yet its eluding him struck him as both surprising and dissatisfying. Fear is a product of knowledge. It is when the apple is eaten and knowledge gained that the undeniable reality of corporeality creeps in. In a state of innocence, or better perhaps ignorance the possibility of getting the shivers is less realizable.

Since his telos was fearlessness and since knowledge had not illumined him with its burnished sheen his longing for the shivers as unformulated. The preternatural, the occult, the cabbalistic were phenomenon he shrugged off as laughably extraneous. Ghosts, mysteries, spirits, apparitions he dismissed equally derisively. It wasn't a state of fearlessness that existed as an accompaniment to ontological wholeness. He hadn't had the experience of  the episteme which  would imbue his being . He was a tabula rasa on whose blank slate the significations and hieroglyphs were yet to make their scrolled indentations. A palimpsest of the actualized lay latent, not realized yet but not therefore unrealizable.

A king in the country he went to promised that spending three nights with his son, the prince would give anyone the shivers and thereby make the shiverer the possessor of a grand fortune. Many young men endeavored and failed. Some, cannily, craftily dissimulated but the perspicacious prince caught out their prevarications and told on these miscreants.

So he went to the prince hoping that fear and shivers would suffuse his being and give him a glimpse of the precipitous mortal depths that would precipitate both knowledge and its transcendence. The prince kept him with him in the bedroom. For the first two days the prince unraveled his being to him. The prince, shedding off the heraldic appurtenances that constituted him revealed to the him his inner core. Though he didn't feel fear mnemonics, signifiers, abstractions roiled and reconstituted within. While the nascent unarticulated possibility lay immanent a subtle metamorphosis was under way.

On the third night the prince undressed and gently undressed him. He began, miraculously to awaken his neuronal fleshly pathways. As the ministrations of the prince proceeded he began shivering. Beads of sweat broke out on his body. He felt an onrush of blood and was fully engorged. While this palpable excitation occurred a metaphysical transmogrification took place too. Negation, existing in repression, threaded with self deception, scaffolded by a false consciousness peeled off from his tumescent integument. As the prince's fingers awakened pore after pore of his skin the imminent, always indwelling burgeoned and burst forth. It was a fleshly actualization of  transcendence.Ultimately knowledge lay within yet needed to be discovered  The palimpsest contained the seeds of being and becoming.  The negation of being which the image in the mirror had concealed under the patina of an ideal image shattered. The mirror revealed to him an unambiguous he, what he was and could become. He proceeded in the throes of passion to cleave and commingle. The prince waited expectantly. They made love. 

Monday, January 27, 2014

THE BALL

She goes to the ball in a sequin studded gown which shimmers with spangles of refracted light. The transformation the fairy godmother has wrought in her is both anodyne and transcendental. She knows she looks beautiful. She knows she is the center of attraction and the fixation of every man whose desire, redolent of unconstrained erotic energy, is manifested in possessing and partaking of even a glance of her iridescent beauty. Yet she has an aura of aloofness that disbars propinquity. Infinitesimal slivers of self consciousness ricochet off her and it is only the prince, arrogant in his self sufficiency who dares to ask her to dance. He has his arm around her, he encircles her waist with fierce possessiveness. She feels embalmed, entombed, interred in his male gaze. She sees in him a mirror of negation, a mirror that would abdicate her self agency and undermine feelings of love that beat in her breast.

There is a check in her being. While propensities of her love for her like churn within the prospect of the dance proves irresistibly oppressive . She can see the sisters envying her and their envy excites her wonder because in the detritus of their discards she may have appeared unprepossessing yet now accoutred splendidly she has become both an object of adoration and a subject of envy. She loves and hates the sisters in equal measure. She can see exiguous conditions forestalling their proclamation of their love for her, a love she discerns palpably through the currents of coruscating sexual energies they exude. The stepmother, their mother, poses the greatest difficulty. Her eldritch meanness disallows any fruition.

They regard cinderella with undisguised sexual excitement. Unembellished by restraints their eyes rove over her physiognomy with wonderment and dazzlement. Her luminousity, unambiguous in the lights the chandelier bounces off redoubles their lust. Their bosoms, accompanied by a realistic awareness of the essential blamelessness susurrates with love. They are and she is irreducibly in love yet it is an unformulated love, a love which language leaves undescribed and indescribable. Indeterminate hieroglyphs glimmer, imbuing with significations here, daubling with tintinnabulating remnants there but the limits of articulateness remain unalterable.

It is in the ripples of unexpressed love that these three women discover love. Their disarticulated  endeavors crystallize into sparks that float and irradiate each others respective selves. They could either actualize the immanent or subsume the latent in repression and self abnegation. Suddenly they are all mirrors proliferating each others images in multitudinous permutations of unclassifiability. Their love which doesn't recognizes boundaries transcends the fetters custom imposes.

The fairy godmother had promised cinderella that her apotheosis would take place at midnight. As the dances converge and partners interchange cinderella and the stepsisters are thrown close together. The clock strikes twelve, cinderella leaves her shoe behind as an expression of showing the prince who saw in her the image of the other that would render him whole, the reminder of his frustrated desire and impotent phallic possessiveness. She is going far far away with the stepsisters. The fairy godmother's carriage awaits them at the palace gates. As the clock tolls the final stroke they fly off to live happily ever after.