No. 24

We are all creatures. 

[No. 24]

“Your love is so edible to me”
Toto Coelo 

WOULD YOU EVER BE FRIENDS WITH A REFORMED CANNIBAL?

Lee: You don’t think I’m a bad person?
Bones and All

After a recent breakup, my mom teased me gently about my knack for going to lovers for more, even after unfathomable, comedy-of-errors chaos. This has happened not once, not twice, but many times. I love an encore, even when I and everyone in the audience have gotten a little tousled in the process. I want to clean everything up, make it right. It calms me. In other words, “Of course, I would be friends with a reformed cannibal,” was the first thing that came to mind. Ugh, am I too trusting? 

In pondering your question and looking at art to get inspired, I eventually surrendered to Verônika’s suggestion that I give Luca Guadagnino’s Bones and All a second go. [My first attempt ended about 10 minutes into the film. As much as I love the director, I could not dig my head deep enough into the couch to escape the scene when a girl loses her finger at a slumber party.] That being said, I am happy that I tried again and got to the end of this masterpiece. 

To me, the brilliance of Luca and before him Camille deAngelis, the author of the book that inspired the movie, is that cannibalism is a malleable metaphor for anything we are craving it to be. Addiction. Queerness. Individuality. We attract and repel others based on who we are and how we live. We are not as grotesque as the creatures in the story and yet, when we hurt people or even when we are hurt, we simply feel like monsters.

So, back to you, Alien, and your imaginary cannibal friend. 

1.

Every single intimate relationship is built on a clay foundation of trust. Do you trust – [IN YOUR BONES] – this person’s word, in their energy, in their vibe? Do you believe that someone can change, that you and this other person and every creature in the world is capable of growing? Do I? 

We are all creatures. But is the cannibal in your mind arcing toward lawlessness or harmony?

Where has your cannibal been, and where are they going?

Do you want to be their friend?

2.

Et tu, Brute? 

What are [YOUR] intentions with this creature?

The feral, unsocialized habits you’ve formed over the years, are you willing to reform them?

3.

Does your gut tell you that you and this person are headed somewhere synchronistic? Are your compasses set to the same north? Do you have the same palette? 

This takes me back to the film.

In Bones and All, Maren, the protagonist, says to a creepy older guy named Sully, “I don’t trust you. It doesn’t matter if I’m right or if I’m wrong about that, it just matters that I feel it.” 

THIS!

Perhaps it is not about trusting others, but trusting our own intuition. 
The film above all else is, in my mind, a meditation on instinct. 
Feeling and seeing and smelling our way toward freedom.

The thing is, we are each the eaten and the eater. I have been the monster. And I have been afraid. I am both. Just like the girl in the movie. The hero.

In sum, I think the question is case by case. 
I’d have to meet the cannibal you dream of, before I decide if I want them as my friend.
And depending on how things feel, we will go slowly, with thought and care, and we will write our own original story, together. And then Luca can make it into a movie.

Call me naive. 
A bleeding heart.
I have been bitten.
I will be bitten again. 
And yet, with bandages gingerly adorned and a hungry mouth open, I know in my soul that life is good. It tastes good. 

I will savor every bite.

WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH A REFORMED CANNIBAL?