you go too far, marlowe.

chainsmoking

in the midst sits Mrs. Tinckham herself, smoking a cigarette. she is the only person i know who is literally a chain-smoker. she lights each one from the butt of the last; how she lights the first one of the day remains to me a mystery, for she never seems to have any matches in the house when i ask her for one. i once arrived to find her in great distress because her current cigarete had fallen into a cup of coffee and she had no fire to light another. perhaps she smokes all night, or perhaps there is an undying cigarette which burns eternally in her bedroom

- iris murdoch, under the net.

on decriminalising sex work and drug use.

it may surprise you to know that most sex workers in the west nowadays are middle class rather than lower class and that has given rise to a kind of hierarchy, a distancing of the empowered, independent escort from the drug driven, need based prostitution so often depicted on tv. it has, up to now, been my understanding that the the decriminalisation of sex work and the decriminalisation of drugs are two separate, unrelated issues, and that although many sex workers are drug free, educated women, many have been driven into the business by forced addictions. caty simon’s interview at feministe may have changed my mind. i say ‘may have’ because, like many arguments that involve public policy, a certain amount of generalisation is required, and like all feminist arguments, the identity politics involved often overlook the individuals on the margins of a the particular group spoken for, in this case, sex workers.

there is no question that sex worker activism is largely driven by the aforementioned population of white, middle class women and that those lower class street walker prostitutes at the bottom of the hierarchy are often seen as being more connected to movements against human trafficking or against poverty, pimping and drug use.

the fact is this - arguments that criminalise drug use are based in the disease model of addiction, much like the arguments against s & m, homosexuality and other sexual deviances. however, unlike the case against sexual deviance, drugs are considered truly mind-altering in a biological fashion, both temporarily and permanently. of course, there are those who will argue that sexual deviance is the same way - biological, but i am firmly of the opinion that it’s not a choice, but a preferance. you like eating pickles? i don’t like eating pickles. you like fucking boys? i don’t like fucking boys (an example).

So what gives?

simon’s argument is compelling - there shouldn’t be policies based on (supposedly) biological, disease models of addiction, and the stereotype of the cracked-out whore is detrimental to sex worker activism. however, i can’t seem to get my mind to associate the two movements in a practical fashion, while surely, decriminalising drug use will aid the human trafficking business. ‘no really, officer, she took all those drugs, legally, by herself!’. i can’t see that helping sex worker activism either.

note: i’m all for intersectionality though, so perhaps more things good than bad could come of this. it certainly makes sense in terms of sex work rather than human trafficking.

mad girl's love song

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”

i was not sure i had understood. i was naked enough to disappear in the shop windows. your weight on me sank through my bones and i didn’t know where i had lost my body - as if it had no vowels, as if the construction were faulty, the mesh too coarse - when you felt a sneeze coming on and fumbled for your hankerchief. I traced the law of sufficient reason down your spine. your skin was delicate, like a retracted confession.

- Rosmarie Waldrop

for jack. (for me)

Tell everyone to have guts
Do it yourself
Have guts until the guts
Come through the margins
Clear and pure
Like love is.

- Jack Spicer.