I begin to see myself as a machine. A conglomeration of parts that work together. That function to move and live and do things. A superior kind of machine – its parts so complex, some so intricate… and all so well-fitted they appear as one. As one - invincible, perfect. On the outside all you see is Me – an entirety, an entity, a character, a name, a set of attributes. The tireless laboured workings of the various inner cogs invisible, inaudible. A heart-beat means the pumping of blood, and implicates a system of interlocking tubes and vessels. But the ear hears the soothing sound of comfort, or the hastened skip of lust and excitement.
That said, when one part of the whole malfunctions, the whole is recognised for what it is: a creation, a puzzle made of pieces, a structure that rests on a few seminal pylons. The Heart. The Brain. The Spine. The lungs.
I am a flawed machine. Parts slightly misshapen, badly made, systems perhaps slowing down, or twitching. A glitch, a harsh connection between two parts that were not designed to meet. A grating. A hardening. Parts wearing. The teeth of a misshapen cog grinding away to nothing... And who knows how many more there may be?
The Heart. The lungs. The Brain. The Spine. The Spine.
For the first time, I experienced true tiredness because of this pain. The want to give up. Only for one moment, but clear as crystal – the image of myself shutting down. I looked ahead and saw the movements of myself through the world. Through hours, days, years. The labour. The degeneration. The constant-ness of this machine. The human body is always working. The machine can never stop, and it loses its innocence by becoming aware of itself as a machine. I felt a deep-down shudder and asked “how can I just keep moving!?”
The answer is the same as for any machine. With fuel. With energy. Input from outside. And clear as day I realised something that I should have always known – so simple: food, water and air keep the machine running – on standby, but mental stimulus makes it go. Emotion, excitement, love, visions, concepts, ambition, beliefs, experiences. A complex system of senses, intellect, hormones and imagination are the ignition – the sparks come from the world around.
From the day we are born, we are sparked into action, and we run until we stall or falter. Then we seek a new igniting factor.
I am lonely for that old feeling of wholeness. Sentimental for it. The illusion of effortless perfection. The faith in the self as organic, rather than mechanical. Substances and dancing sometimes re-create that harmony. Make me feel like “I am”, rather than “I work”. Make me feel like all my systems function perfectly and forever.
So dance with me, enfold me, spin me around… Let’s lose ourselves in music, each other, ourselves.
Touch me, fuck me, spark me up.
I got work to do. I got living to do, and it's getting harder relentlessly.
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