Seems like a weird line to takeaway from this, but
"I am newly not of this earth, yet undecayed; just like you like."
wouldn't being fresh carrion in some way mean newly of the earth, rather not of the earth? Or to say, both living and death are of the earth, but of different parts off it: consuming of it, and being consumed by it.
There's a Stanislaw Lev novel called "Fiasco" where the main character, an astronaut, at one point observes mineral structures on the face of a planet far more complex and dynamic than anything seen on earth, including the human mind. He realizes within that complexity that even 'consciousness' may not be that special or rare of an outcome of chemical complexity, and the planet may have a consciousness that extends far beyond the aeons of human existence.
The interesting thing about consuming, and procreation, is that they're both a drive to keep the chemical reaction that compose biological life going. But somehow we consider us consuming the resources of the earth to be living, but the earth consuming the resources of us to be death.
Whoa. I had never considered that about newly not of this earth - i defaulted to soul thinking, where our souls are untethered, but damn you are so right. . . that deeper level of actually FINALLY BEING the earth! A communion of sorts. I may have to look into that novel. I'm ever interested in any sort of astronaut story because of the concept of solipsism. Your way of thinking is so inspiring, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. Also, that last line could be the first line of an essay/story.
Jul 4, 2022·edited Jul 4, 2022Liked by Trilety Wade
It occurred to me in the process of reading and rereading this exquisite piece silently to myself...
Is the play between the reader and your waiting body of work an incarnation of Vulturing-being Vultured? It's certainly an exercise in vulnerability. The words are let out from the living contingent of your breath inside you to be stumbled over by eyes in want of fill, and in quiet dance the corpus acquires new life and gifts it as well.
"But wait, in one fell descent to earth, it occurs to me. . . . what if the reason no one has ever agreed to Vulture me is because it IS sexual!?"
This observation puts me in mind of the Watchers, fallen angels who came down and began to lust for human mates. No obvious connection. Does it take something supernatural to overcome the conditioning of our corpoREALITY?
Wonderful art to ponder. I enjoyed it. I do feel to "like" is to profane the body of words (and, if the analogy tracks, spoil its un-decay for future Vultures), but alas, what can we do?
David, thank you so much! Wow I dig the way you express yourself through words - i always have to chew them for a bit. I especially love the connection you made between the reader/body of work as it relates to Vulturing - something i would have not thought of but now cannot stop thinking about. And. . . I have never heard of Watchers! And maybe it is some sort of sacred that is necessary to transcend the flesh. On a similar note, while I'm no longer of the faith, I was raised Catholic and I believe that religion was an influence for a ton of my body-obsessed thinking. Really appreciate you reading AND commenting - and for not spoiling the un-decay ;)
In a way the idea of vulturing reminds me of body horror movies. Not that it's horrific (although maybe a line or two evokes some in me), but that it feels like another avenue of exploring who we are psychologically, sexually, interpersonally through exploring the inescapable reality of who we are bodily.
Seems like a weird line to takeaway from this, but
"I am newly not of this earth, yet undecayed; just like you like."
wouldn't being fresh carrion in some way mean newly of the earth, rather not of the earth? Or to say, both living and death are of the earth, but of different parts off it: consuming of it, and being consumed by it.
There's a Stanislaw Lev novel called "Fiasco" where the main character, an astronaut, at one point observes mineral structures on the face of a planet far more complex and dynamic than anything seen on earth, including the human mind. He realizes within that complexity that even 'consciousness' may not be that special or rare of an outcome of chemical complexity, and the planet may have a consciousness that extends far beyond the aeons of human existence.
The interesting thing about consuming, and procreation, is that they're both a drive to keep the chemical reaction that compose biological life going. But somehow we consider us consuming the resources of the earth to be living, but the earth consuming the resources of us to be death.
Whoa. I had never considered that about newly not of this earth - i defaulted to soul thinking, where our souls are untethered, but damn you are so right. . . that deeper level of actually FINALLY BEING the earth! A communion of sorts. I may have to look into that novel. I'm ever interested in any sort of astronaut story because of the concept of solipsism. Your way of thinking is so inspiring, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. Also, that last line could be the first line of an essay/story.
It occurred to me in the process of reading and rereading this exquisite piece silently to myself...
Is the play between the reader and your waiting body of work an incarnation of Vulturing-being Vultured? It's certainly an exercise in vulnerability. The words are let out from the living contingent of your breath inside you to be stumbled over by eyes in want of fill, and in quiet dance the corpus acquires new life and gifts it as well.
"But wait, in one fell descent to earth, it occurs to me. . . . what if the reason no one has ever agreed to Vulture me is because it IS sexual!?"
This observation puts me in mind of the Watchers, fallen angels who came down and began to lust for human mates. No obvious connection. Does it take something supernatural to overcome the conditioning of our corpoREALITY?
Wonderful art to ponder. I enjoyed it. I do feel to "like" is to profane the body of words (and, if the analogy tracks, spoil its un-decay for future Vultures), but alas, what can we do?
David, thank you so much! Wow I dig the way you express yourself through words - i always have to chew them for a bit. I especially love the connection you made between the reader/body of work as it relates to Vulturing - something i would have not thought of but now cannot stop thinking about. And. . . I have never heard of Watchers! And maybe it is some sort of sacred that is necessary to transcend the flesh. On a similar note, while I'm no longer of the faith, I was raised Catholic and I believe that religion was an influence for a ton of my body-obsessed thinking. Really appreciate you reading AND commenting - and for not spoiling the un-decay ;)
I like this piece.
In a way the idea of vulturing reminds me of body horror movies. Not that it's horrific (although maybe a line or two evokes some in me), but that it feels like another avenue of exploring who we are psychologically, sexually, interpersonally through exploring the inescapable reality of who we are bodily.