schrödinger's dyke

A Pervert's Simple Five-Step Guide To Living In Reality

Step 1: Try To Be Honest About What You Want

In dream it goes like this: you’re fully clothed, you’re in a skirt and you have wispy facial hair and someone is touching you, but only the parts of you that are readily available. They start off kneading you, and you can feel their strength, their skin behind your cotton shield, heel of their palm to the pads of their fingers, sinuous and rhythmic leaving bruises, deeper and deeper and deeper, your arms and legs mottling, and ohhh you’re a boneless Jell-O jungle cat, you’re a raw cinnamon roll and butter’s slicking up your surfaces. And they don’t have a mouth, or at least they're willing to forget they do, so no one has to kiss anyone to be loved. And no one has to love anyone to be touched. And later it’ll be time to punch out the dough, and it’ll feel good, and they’ll flatten it and cut it and roll it and proof it, and it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever felt, you’ll see, it’ll feel so good.

Step 2: Be Honest, In First Person This Time

It’s been a while since I did yoga. I was a child and I was light and I was skinny, so now all these years later my muscle memory won’t transfer over and now the yogi hands me blocks and the insides of my knees hurt and my heels won’t touch the mat. The session is an hour long, so to pass time I dream of lizard pose: in dream someone plants a foot on my trembling thigh and steps, pushes down and down, and my hips go sharp and bloody, and I scream but I do it, I’m open, I’m open, I’m slick. I dream of crow pose: someone waits until I’m perfectly balanced, as high up as I can go, light as a feather, stiff as a board, and just then they palm my head like a basketball and try to dribble, but my head misses the mat entirely and oops, they’ve accidentally exploded my brains all over the clean and precious polished hardwood studio floors. I dream, of course, of downward dog: how far down? Does puppy want a treat? Lastly I dream of bow pose: someone picks me up by the wrist, lifts me as high as they can before dropping me, hard, and I land right on the creases across my chest and abdomen and there it is! there it is! an abrupt reminder that I have ribs, walls and scaffolding and a nice concrete base. Here I am strong, here I can take anything they feel like giving me… And time’s up. The instructor goes Namaste, and when I inhale-exhale nothing hurts. Not even a little bit.

Step 3: Inspect The Prospective Candidates

(You don’t really know a lot of people.) 1 never would’ve done it. 2 would probably be down but it wouldn’t be right. 3 loves you too much. 4’s hands are too soft. 5’s relationship’s too solid. 6 abhors violence. (You don’t really know the right kind of people.) 7 thinks it’s gross. 8 thinks it’s deviant. 9’s against it on principle. 10 doesn’t have the guts. You’re not even speaking to 11 anymore. (You don’t know anyone you’re willing to even think of asking.) 12’s too attached to certain organs—yours and his own. 13’s too attached to your wholeness. 14’s too kind, too good, too sweet, too horny. And lastly 15’s dead to you, full-on dead to you. (Your hands, by themselves, can’t do anything but tremble.)

Step 4: Okay, Maybe This Won't Work After All

So you’ve given up. Now we can leave realism behind and go a little wild with it. Go deep and esoteric, go gross and socially unacceptable, go crazy and plunge your hands into the dirt. Stop dissembling, stop disassembling, live in your ribs in the house you’ve built. Here, I’ll go: in dream we’re doing extreme breathplay in a dark closet, in dream we crack my heart like an egg and you feed it to me in a meringue, in dream we’re sitting on the floor sharing wired earphones and I put on an album so goodbad you strangle me with them. What else? In dream we peel our skins off and stand outside in the brisk wind, in dream I projectile vomit a perfect crystal bezoar directly into your mouth, in dream we sleep like two unpaired parentheses, not touching, no meaning between us. It’s nice, it feels good, it feels uncomplicated. In dream it works, in dream it keeps working, in dream it never ends. In real life someone exists, probably, and in dream you have the courage to tell them.

Step 5: God, It's Done, Chill Out, Live A Little

It’s time to reject dissolution, probably, so go reclaim your body. I’m not talking through you, I never was. I’m not talking about you, I’m, like, actually incapable. I’m not talking to you, you don’t even exist. I live in dream and fog and hypotheticals. I’m in love with faceless someones with no nerves, no eyes, no senses, no way to perceive the gaping hole within me. So maybe the actual first step is to reconcile with the human body. Or maybe it’s time to fall in love with a bowl of chocolate pudding. Or maybe it’s useless, maybe you’re right and I’m void and I’m trembling, trembling, dreaming of small fake violences just to get to the heart of me, the dissembling broken heart of me. And maybe no one has to know anyone to love. Maybe no one has to know anyone to be known. No one has to love anyone to live, but it sure would be nice, wouldn’t it?

so yeah

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here's my new OC I call her Recombinantia she has every single allele and her starry purple eyes refract the sunlight filtered by her dichaete wings

Went to the Wetlands Institute the other day.