How to resist what must be written?
If resistance exists, that becomes its own form.
I think about death. I think about control. I think about poetry/confession/memoir. How to combine all three of these to create one text?
Last Spring, I wandered into the Moma P.S. 1 museum and lost myself inside the large, multi-media exhibit of Laurel Nakadate. Each room showed a video from her various social experiments with men [oddly, they were all middle aged white men] and challenging the ideas of sexuality and control. She also had a photo exhibit where she documented, through pictures, 365 days of her sadness.
We live in a world where we are constantly archiving everything through social media posts, blogs, and other online postings. Nothing is ever done in silence or secrecy. Or, is it?
What is revealed through these visible postings, or more interestingly, what is not revealed? If one were to live without documentation, does it become more real or genuine in its intention?
Do we go to these events just to say we went?
If we stopped announcing every moment of out lives, would we live differently? Or, not live at all?
To resist what resists is a resistance of resist.
To resist what wants to be written and then moving through that struggle. As a poet, I document what I see through my eyes. Sometimes, oftentimes, I enter in. I get involved through questions or actions. However, does this mean I am living my life or the life in which I suggest I live?