I've been spying on Cornell's Art interim (he did invite me, so 'spying' is perhaps not the correct term, and yet...) Nothing is really coming of it-- a few doodles and a vector of a guitar. I have this itch to paint, but I paint very poorly and I don't want to waste his materials on a personal project (another dream-origin creation, which has been sitting in my sketchbook for the better part of a year and will probably continue to languish there). My mind is, if not quite
empty, still very resonant-- there is no room for new creation among the old echoes, and even those echoes mingle and become confused and distorted, until all that I can hear in my head is mangled noise. Dylan described my attitudes today as 'wraith', which I suppose is an accurate depiction-- certainly I was gauzy and not quite there, trailing fingers and footsteps like the train of a shroud. I don't know. I just feel
out of alignment; not an unfamiliar sensation, but certainly not a welcome one. On the other hand, when I do realign I will have probably made a discover of some personal significance. We'll see.
Ah, yes. I neglected to comment at the time, so I will notate it here. I was thinking a few nights ago about sexuality (though I don't recall what spurred the line of thought). It occurs to me that I am not a lesbian in the sense that I am attracted to the female body any more than I am attracted to the male body-- but rather that females fit my image of beauty more accurately than
most males. When I see a woman (or a very pretty man) and I find myself attracted to that person, it isn't a physical attraction at all, because physically I have no interest-- rather, it is an
aesthetic attraction. I am attracted to and intrigued by the beauty of this person as I perceive it; I can view it, allow myself to marvel and (briefly, so briefly, for I am a fickle creature)
love this beauty, and then move on to the next object of beauty. I see human beings as pieces of art, and I regard them in a way similar to my regard for a painting or sculpture. The world is the gallery, and mankind is the art. There's something pretentious in that, I think, but this is how my perceptions shape, and now I understand. In the sense that I do not crave sexual contact, I am very nearly asexual-- it is only in the perception of beauty that I can crave another human being (physically), and then only to view. I wonder if there is something
wrong about that.
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