Tag Archives: #metoo

The womb in a faintly mouldy corner

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We only ever notice the ogres from the #metoo stories, not the nice people that walk among us, pass among us. When the less obvious or the everyday monsters are finally outed, sometimes we will not want to see, choose not to see, because they were always so affable and it is just too difficult to believe such stories about them. Some of the #metoo reports are about people we idolised. All this time, they were simply signalling virtue.

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Uttering itself into being: #metoo

2391388413_32c24794d2_o“Harms no one”. I have heard this again and again for too long. There is a temple in Kerala, India, that doesn’t permit menstruating women to enter and I have been told by many if you do not like their customs just don’t go there. How do you reply to non sequiturs, and other straw men? Of course, I am not interested in going there. I realised that years ago when I first heard about a place that treats women in this manner. How do I explain to people how this and other discriminatory customs followed in our public and private lives have so eroded my very structure, my very being that today I am reduced.

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A precrime hidden in plain sight

wp-1487480255454.jpgIf we stop to think about it, there is something very important buried in the chronicle of stories written by Ronan Farrow in The New Yorker. It’s in the detail deep down in the stories. Ostensibly, what we tend to remember are the Israeli spies, open bathrobes and emanations into potted plants—the dramatic circumstances. People are tuned to enact and respond to that in other people and in the stories they read and watch. Spectacle is what great mythology and morality fables are about, we live for the soap opera.

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The new sophistication

IMG_9646The sophist is always canny, master of doublethink. He can convince you that up is down. He will point out that really there is no up or down, as we bob around in cosmic space and it is all in our head, those tiny vestibular bones, this notion of up and down. And he believes he charms you as he cons you into being convinced. He converts you in fits and starts, he is not high priest of vaudeville, a proselytiser, he aims to be less obvious. Continue reading The new sophistication