biology is real, but context is all.

 Gender is the fundamental category of western humanity.  Which has led me to place feminism versus conservative science, perpetuating yet another dualism, a line of logic that I have been conditioned to, which seeks to sweep away any contradictions.  This logic is just as stagnant as the nostalgic glofiying the hunter-gatherer times that they wish to return to, which I fall back to as well. 

I’ve recently been led me to the author of the Cyborg Manifesto, Donna Haraway, where she blurs the lines of mind, body and tool.  Her objective seems to be of a sort of “resetting” of materialist logic.  Which is the aim of post-modern philosophy, as I understand it, it is a project to try tangle the threads of logic built by materialism, to allow people to take different directions that are complex and full of contradictions, to see the multi-layers. 

Haraway is very interested in steering so called socialist feminist, like myself who resist science and technology, towards the cyborg as a post modern view of science.  The cyborg navigates away from dualist construction, by decentering the universal positionality of humanism.  “Historical material account of human nature departs from relativism and universialism.”

please read on:  http://www.stanford.edu/dept/HPS/Haraway/CyborgManifesto.html

O

We today are lavishing in our ignorance. 

Everything steers us to that path, you don’t even have to endure the strain of the drive

just rest you head back feet propped on the dashboard

and enjoy the breeze.  

 

axis of eros

Being here amounts to so much

Because all this here And now

Is so fleeting.

Yet it seems to require us

Yet somehow strangely concerns us,

Us the most fleeting of all.

It is the contradictions within the west

Which is the only world I know

That I must come to understand

Myself infused with self

The un-lost paradise

Once sought, derived and regained

from Inner dignity and ultimate honesty.

And so it was, I entered the broken world,

To trace the company of love.

It’s voice.

Love, the unfamiliar name behind hands that wove us

Into a curious conjuction.

happiness is only the premature profit of imminent loss.

Still we only live now,

so forget your underwear. We are free.

And in my dreams I watch you walk back

Dripping from a sea-journey to exchange sandpaper kisses.