Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
In some number of days (maybe 32 when I drafted this), it will be Words or Whatever. As in 16 November at Blackstar Coffee. There will be facebooking and postering and such to come as Betsy Turcot and I have the honour of curating a women’s only evening of spoken word and performance. In the meantime, I am thinking hard and feeling harder about a piece that I am creating with Rhyll Tonge and Chantel Keegan. Over the next month, if I get the time and they get the motion, I might ask them a little about how they feel about that.
Here, on day one of What Was I Thinking, this is how I feel.
sometimes the kindest
gesture has been
leaving the body that sad machine of flesh
to the mind
casting it off
letting it be
freeing it from
the mirror the gaze
all the indiscreet attentions.
as if in shiva
I have mourned the fleshy case
like the loss of every soul
looking to others for
reflection and comfort.
look at me love me look at me love me look at me love
loosely tethered to my bones
all the muscles lazing
underneath the softened skin
purposeless – porpoise smooth –
the sexuality of languor
the liquidity of corporeal stock
today we start by taking it:
some muscle some sinew to knot to bruise to scratchskin
gasp throat in the thrall of the skin and the body
I approach the mirror
remove the dusty veil
to sing the body electric?
I should mention, there’s no way I could stomach that music. So I watch that clip, with this track. Because it feels better that way. Maybe right click on the file below, then mute the youtube and then just cope with my incredibly directive way of making you watch a simply youtube.