The title of this blog is one of the three epigraphs at the beginning of John Berryman's The Dream Songs. I found it fitting.
I am embarking on a journey of intimacy in certain forms. Aside from romantic intimacies are intimacies with food, or sports, art (producing, and appreciating), our home, the idea and the intimacy with home, with language as a gateway to intimacies of the past and present (or perhaps deepening already intimate connections), how we imbue intimacies in/with/around objects (like a photograph). Our individual intimacies with our memories. What technology has done to capitalize or entice intimacies. The evolution of intimacy from generation to generation, or differences between classes on what intimacies are valued; that is, how we may be conditioned to have or work toward achieving certain levels of intimacies with specific people/things, and not others.
These are just examples of forms of intimacy.
To focus my thought project a bit...
...I recently witnessed the fluidity of intimacies within my home-life. The transference of intimacy has been a consequence of recent tragic, life-altering circumstances. An intimate relationship of my own has been directly affected/weakened as another one of her intimacies has intensified. This has made me more aware ('hyper aware') of other intimacies in my own as I've managed to dig up old intimacies, to reflect, and rekindle. I am going to continue with this.
No comments:
Post a Comment