Errgo…,
...something is calling us, something is hurting us, but we are not sure what it is: a wound? a scar? a disease? The human wound intertwines with the wound of culture, illness turns into an object of fascination. Fever kindles the blood. We are venturing into the territory of indisposition.
For starters, just a sneak peek at what lies ahead: typhoid and cholera, hallucinations, phantasmagorias, miscarriages and abortions, tuberculous desires, caverns, histolyses, abscesses, effusions, syphilis and gonorrhoea, zoonoses, bodily deformities, retroviruses, coughing, spitting blood, bad breath, help yourselves at will: infectious diseases and parasitic diseases, unwanted pregnancies, obsessions, fixations, generic diseases, traumatizing torments of the body, hypersensitivity, hypochondria, lobotomy, fire, air and ice injuries, rotten teeth, splinters, tick bites, cuts and gashes of the skin, excoriations, bee stings, smallpox, measles, exhaustion, bruises, scabs and scars, self-mutilations, stings, scratches, cancer, cardiovascular diseases, paralysis, neurasthenia, bleeding wounds, hereditary enervation, hunchbacks, cross-eyes, skin growths, reservoirs of germs, dizziness, amok, blood loss, the beyond-the-repair state of fatigue, ataxia, swamp fever, vampirism and lycanthropy, infections, decay, and a general degradation arousing hardly aesthetic reactions.
As per usual, in this not exactly friendly though highly intriguing environment, noteworthy things are taking place. Bacilli look around, surprised, traumas challenge thinking in linear terms, blood effuses fiercely through the throat, surrogates are impregnated against their will, speculative fabulations allow us to see contradictory morphisms, while the servants wear thick felt slippers. On top of that, the butler does not understand the protagonist, Silesia, dilapidated and ideologically shallow, becomes a wound and is ashamed of Jorg, while Ophelia is ashamed of herself, one subjectess becomes aware of animal corporeality, a dog bites the breasts, being curls up inside itself whereas concreteness becomes unbearable. Fortunately, there is some good news, too. Ȭma reigns, delirium triggers self-discovery, the heroine consumes duck liver to recover from illness more quickly, the metaphysician makes use of the scout, and a poetess forges shreds and scraps from a lump. And still, importantly, petrification becomes petrifiction. In such a favourable atmosphere, doctor Fallus listens to engineer Beksay’s confessions concerning the benefits of making love to old ladies, female bodies transform into pigs’ bodies, flowers come to life like snakes and transform into a mistress, a post-patient colonises the uncertain future, a poet writes with his wound, Agee wants to incorporate syncopations of chance as an aleatory source of his art, while the thirty-year old Bettina Göring – in a monumental gesture – undergoes the procedure of tubal ligation and thus erases the taint from future generations. At the risk of a certain generalisation, we conclude that some lose themselves tragically, while others with a bang.
Diverse characters, objects and specimens greet and beckon us from the other side of health: pale anaemic creatures, an enslaved unicorn, ephemeral beings, a drill piercing through the skull and penetrating the brain, a crippled old woman, skeletons, spectres, corpses, putrefying vapours, the figure of a vampiress, a filthy female peddler selling dirty candies, bodily phobias and bodily fascinations, maladic-gelotherapeutic artefacts, decayed and neurotic souls of the decadents, a small magical womb, birthing and dying, hurting and cicatrising, blood and ashes, a female solider holding a naked man on a leash, clay-eaters, a pyramid made of seven naked bodies, a gem-studded turtle, a naked man smeared with excrement, intrauterine fantasies, a plugged-in prophet with his face covered, thermometers, spittoons, stethoscopes, uncontrollable trapping of macaques, a father’s larynx shot-through, repeated matricide, divine punishment. And some ideological-methodological appetizers: theology of the plague, the poetry of open wounds, aleatory vitalism, maladic imagination, the lethal logic of military patriarchy, sinister biology, ludology of the disease, and aposiopesis and tapinosis, just to make sure that language is not left behind.
And yet, in the midst of this entanglement of wounds, scars and diseases, there appear thoughts, questions and observations by no means unhealthy: is organism a hermeneutical entity? Striving and anxiety make a human being. Awareness of bodily fragility is of sinusoidal nature. Identity is not unambiguous. Recognising laboratory animals as employees would emphasise their subjectivity, which would in turn secure their workers’ rights. True music is no joke. Fever leads to epiphany. Theories look beautiful when seen from a distance, but an individual’s fate is lost in them. The presence of dogs unifies, uniting past and presence. Bearing witness is never possible. Balancing between finitude and infinitude is dangerous. The universe is a devil’s trick and a prank. How much dignity can be robbed from a person to still retain their humanity ?
There’s nothing left to say, except for a clichéd conclusion, which, nevertheless, remains rather painful: from the moment of birth everything is destined for death.
The Editors wish you good health.
Wojciech Kalaga
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4874-9734
No. 49 (2024)
Published: 2024-12-30