Even though xe would successfully use them in ways that radically differed form how they could, at times, be used against xem, xe regularly stated that xe would mourn with a craze of the soul if there were no longer mirrors on the planet. Xir gestures have the power to change how xe looks to xemself aesthetically, which is all the more reason for xe to look into xemself over time. Compare three distinct chapters of a life, to three whole tones climbing the invisible steps of each other, in hopes of their exertion affecting nature. Nature’s expressiveness exposes. It is not always either or only the major second or minor third. Sometimes its tone is awkward, dissonant. Dissonance can disclose.
Can smears in form welcome unforeseen light? Is light an ever after challenge, a place capable of pulling fatigued or lost forms into the forest? A slipknot is being tightened and loosened, spit on, lubricated while it holds. When xe had to get the MRI, due to concerns about xir heart, xe was afraid. “They will focus on the breast that is actually my chest” xe murmured. Not just a glance in the mirror while walking by it, but a blatant stare, while allowing the eyes to cross. Xe often shoved xir gaze sideways and into the full moon like this: searching out reflections, the shadowy God with its silver blood.
The backside of the mirror and the underside of xir shadow are the same color: awareness by tritone, the taste of a round thing’s edge.
j/j hastain is a queer, mystic, seer, singer, photographer, lover, priest/ess, gender shaman and writer. As artist and activist of the audible, j/j is the author of several cross-genre books and enjoys ceremonial performances in an ongoing project regarding gender, shamanism, eros and embodiments. That project is called: you make yourself your own tilted stage.