We all have our “satans” (adversarial conditions). Some are truly adversaries, and some are scapegoats and screens for projections.
I spent most of the weekend in a psychological crisis, but what else is new? As long as I finished a political illustration assignment and a track remix under their respective deadlines — and I did — so what if I had a razor party on my arm and about three days straight of wearing the same thing, hygiene optional…sometimes dirt becomes a cocoon you can curl up in like a favorite nubby old sweater that engulfs your body like a tide pool. A cocoon with a steady feed of butoh performance footage circulating in wordless, another thing to learn when the will to move returns. A cocoon surrounded by the cats pressed against your body for warmth cuz even when it feels that way technically you’re not dead yet. Your body is still warm.
It’s just how it is sometimes. I’m grateful at Eric’s supportiveness, even if he’s not always certain what to do. I get the same when he’s the one spun out. It’s not butoh, it’s the waltz of the unfixable. And there’s no one I’d rather do it with than a partner who won’t let you drop. Or worse, drop you on purpose because they only feel secure when everything else around them is broken.