D.I.D. You See Us Fly?

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Starting from the forms one has, the subject one is,
the organs one has, or the functions one fulfills, 
becoming is to extract particles between which 
one establishes the relations of movement and rest, 
speed and slowness that are closest to what one is 
becoming and through which one becomes.  
This is the sense in which becoming is 
the process of desire.
				-Deleuze and Guattari (272)*

The desire, the agency lay in flight. Literally to fly away. Watching suspended from the ceiling in animated states of disassociation no longer sufficed. [HE raped ME. Did not. Did too. Might've. Could've. Should've. But we saw HIM. Didn't we?] We split. That was the original attempt at flight. We divorced ourselves from THE "Self," THE "Core," THE unified subject (as if She ever truly existed). Really what we did (D.I.D.) do was attempt to leave the striated spaces of THE (molar) BODY behind.

The terror and pain were back in the woman's face..."I'll draw you a picture sometime." The face looked sad. "When I get to play..." For whatever reason, this child felt safe enough with him to stay for a while. Then he saw it: her body stance beginning a slow transformation from a free-moving child to one who huddled into herself and regarded her surroundings with terror...Silence. A tremor shook her. She tried to tell him how old she was, counting on her fat-fingered hands. She cried in frustration when she got to six and couldn't go any further... "Time," she said, still crying and beating the fat little hands together, "time just..." - Chase (180)*

Re/de-claiming all impervious relations to that loose affiliation of organistic parts, the CORPSE (our body?) [lard-ass, fat-ass, stupid piece of shit] . Wreaking ITs surface with a million razor cuts. Dessicating ITs form through studied deprivations of food and sleep. Futilely attempting to transgress the subjective space of those corpuscular remnants [i] HE had so verily insistentlyviolently claimed as his own.

	Seeking to disappear, to evaporate before HIS wandering eyes,
		HIS roving hands.  Large sweatshirts, loose jeans.  
			Refusing HIS food. Shrinking from HIS gaze.  
					Refusing to recognize ourselves in the hopes  
					 		HE would fail to recognize us too.


T	N	S	T	D	T	O	A	V	C	I	E	T	S
H	O	E	I	E			T	I	A	C		H	T
E	T		N	S	W	S	I	O	T	H	C	E	E	
		D	G	I	H	T	O	L	I		O		N
T	D	E	U	R	I	R	N,	E	O	P	N	P	C
E    	E	S	I	E	C	A		N	N,	E	S	L	Y.
S    	N	I	S		H	T	O	T		R	T	A
T    	O	R	H	B		I	R		A	T	R	N	-Deleuze &
     	U	E	I	E	P	C		D	N	A	U	E	 Guattari
O    	N	S,	N	T	E		E	E-	D	I	C		 (165)*
F   	C		G	W	R	P	L	S		N	T	O
    	I	B		E	T	R	S	T	T	S	I	F
D    	N	U	W	E	A	O	E	R	H		O
E    	G	T	I	N	I	L		A	A	T	N	C
S			T		N	I	T	T	T	O		O
I    	F	D	H	T	S	F	O	I			O	N
R	A	I	I	H		E	O-	F	W	T	F	S
E:	L	S	N	A	T	R		I	H	H		I



Sliding/eliding between present sensual formations and agencies of pure fantasy and disarray. The eyes that see transformed into self # 1. The mind: repository of our memory of rape, self #2. The vagina, clitoris: sensing pleasure/pain, selves #3 and 4.

Multiplicitous becomings.

With no idea how she'd done it, the woman saw she'd not only crossed the intersection but had navigated a very big parking lot and was sitting in her car...The Outrider laughed and the woman was glad of it... [W]as that someone else's tears? Numbness had set in. Knowing himself to be a full-fledged bastard for the act he was about to perform, Mean Joe seized the advantage. He signaled and the long dead image of Olivia I inserted a piece of recall in the woman's mind...[S]he was almost three years old and in the first farmhouse kitchen...The high chair tray was lifted...Tiny hands were bound to the arms of the high-chair. Karo syrup, the taste of it in her mouth- Karo syrup not floating on a spoon of cereal but coating the long pink thing that nestled in the wiry bush. A small voice in the woman's head, crying. Go away, leave me alone. -Chase (202)*

Bodies, quite simply put, without Organs. Bodies flyi ngfleeing. . Bodies free???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

We pause to consider a body free. A body in flight from its own organismic [we interrogate: orgasmic?] configurations.

Bodies without Organs. Bodies [we stop to ponder] without breasts, cunts, lips, tongues, hair; all neatly arranged in simple [we do not conflate "the natural" within this lexicon] configurations. Bodies [it seems worthy of consideration] without [we gasp in terror] these organs, this cunt (YES, MY CUNT) firmly, inflexibly positioned between two sure and steady legs. Bodies without organs [we conclude] which conceptually deny the situatedness of this cunt, these breasts; deny the striated spaces of our downfall and thus just as surely reinforce the denial of our sexual, limbic agency.

[iiiii] defying I. This, as women, we were bred to do.

	Bat, dog, chick, mutton, tart.  Queen, madam, lady of pleasure.
	MISTRESS. Belle-de-nuit,  woman of the streets, fruitwoman, fallen woman.
	Cow, vixen, bitch. Call girl, joy girl, working girl.  Lady and whore, 
	both bred to please. - Trinh (96)*

So the analysts had us flying free. Bodiless. Limbless. Motionless. Without/beyond this cunt. Beyond woman breeding, woman receiving, woman touching.

And we proclaim their quest for limbless agency a phallic, Cartesian privilege to the last.

not them we whee! oui