~~ phoenixes, hmm...?
Mar. 1st, 2004 04:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaDo I even know what transcendence is? (Well, maybe most people don't.)
I talk about it all the time, don't I? I want to say, but hate becoming need becoming love, that's transcendence. That's happiness, when there are no boundaries, when all emotions are one, when there is no dirty corner, no darkness hidden. When everything is fused, demons and angels in love. That's what it would be like in some fantasy world where people were ideas, wouldn't it? But people only think they're ideas. Really, they're nothing of the kind.
Buffy has to love the demon in Spike, in my mind, just as Spike has to let go of the need for direct kinship and love the Other in her. Harry has to accept that Draco is a Slytherin, that he's different even as he's the same, that they're not secretly "just like" each other. Harry -doesn't- belong in Slytherin or vice versa, otherwise what's the point? We all already contain our own opposites within us, we don't need to project them onto others, really. It's best to see other people as human beings, isn't it?
I love the idea of loving the demon so much. It has such power to me. I think I'm obsessed with it, with the concept of a darkness one could touch and know and love. I don't know if that makes it tame or if that redeems it or yourself-- all I know is that when I think of it, I envision some sort of impossibly aching happiness, like how you'd feel right before you died of it.
I was watching people play some stupid fighting videogame, and I was almost on fire with the desire to see the cute boys on screen just strip and go at each other. It was an effort not to shout "TAKE HIM!! YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT!"
But that's just anger, adrenaline, violence, hatred. Some sort of fascimile of real intensity, constructed of base instincts and a fighter's reflexes. It's hard to remember sometimes that real people's hate is... well... real, and ugly, and there's nothing of goodness in it. It's all fear twisted up in defensiveness, and that's nothing to get excited about, is it? Maybe I'm just not dealing with the real issues by responding to violence as if it's some sort of... animalistic mating dance. I mean, these are people, not tigers, right.
Even if fighting -did- give them hard-ons, the sex and any possible relationship would be angry and painful and about as transcendent as a really good sneeze. I do remember hating the person I loved when they hurt me, and that was intense, and on some level I enjoyed the violent impulses I had. But it did matter that I -loved-, to start with, and that love always colored any possible anger I felt. I'd like to believe that loving the demon could save you, but Buffy's Season 6-style self-hatred and disgust with herself seems more likely. There's always going to be the morning after, when you wake up and regret everything and lash out again, except not in a sexy way.
And yet, every hormone in me still screams "but they want it BAD!!", and I don't care what the consequences are, I think that love and hate can't be separated so easily. Maybe there's no way out, exactly, but then, there's never a way out of love, either. I just confuse myself, thinking about consequences when that was never what mattered to me to start with. I think on some level it's just a fascination with fire, and watching people burn alive, hoping love is a phoenix because if it isn't, everything is ash anyway.
I talk about it all the time, don't I? I want to say, but hate becoming need becoming love, that's transcendence. That's happiness, when there are no boundaries, when all emotions are one, when there is no dirty corner, no darkness hidden. When everything is fused, demons and angels in love. That's what it would be like in some fantasy world where people were ideas, wouldn't it? But people only think they're ideas. Really, they're nothing of the kind.
Buffy has to love the demon in Spike, in my mind, just as Spike has to let go of the need for direct kinship and love the Other in her. Harry has to accept that Draco is a Slytherin, that he's different even as he's the same, that they're not secretly "just like" each other. Harry -doesn't- belong in Slytherin or vice versa, otherwise what's the point? We all already contain our own opposites within us, we don't need to project them onto others, really. It's best to see other people as human beings, isn't it?
I love the idea of loving the demon so much. It has such power to me. I think I'm obsessed with it, with the concept of a darkness one could touch and know and love. I don't know if that makes it tame or if that redeems it or yourself-- all I know is that when I think of it, I envision some sort of impossibly aching happiness, like how you'd feel right before you died of it.
I was watching people play some stupid fighting videogame, and I was almost on fire with the desire to see the cute boys on screen just strip and go at each other. It was an effort not to shout "TAKE HIM!! YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT!"
But that's just anger, adrenaline, violence, hatred. Some sort of fascimile of real intensity, constructed of base instincts and a fighter's reflexes. It's hard to remember sometimes that real people's hate is... well... real, and ugly, and there's nothing of goodness in it. It's all fear twisted up in defensiveness, and that's nothing to get excited about, is it? Maybe I'm just not dealing with the real issues by responding to violence as if it's some sort of... animalistic mating dance. I mean, these are people, not tigers, right.
Even if fighting -did- give them hard-ons, the sex and any possible relationship would be angry and painful and about as transcendent as a really good sneeze. I do remember hating the person I loved when they hurt me, and that was intense, and on some level I enjoyed the violent impulses I had. But it did matter that I -loved-, to start with, and that love always colored any possible anger I felt. I'd like to believe that loving the demon could save you, but Buffy's Season 6-style self-hatred and disgust with herself seems more likely. There's always going to be the morning after, when you wake up and regret everything and lash out again, except not in a sexy way.
And yet, every hormone in me still screams "but they want it BAD!!", and I don't care what the consequences are, I think that love and hate can't be separated so easily. Maybe there's no way out, exactly, but then, there's never a way out of love, either. I just confuse myself, thinking about consequences when that was never what mattered to me to start with. I think on some level it's just a fascination with fire, and watching people burn alive, hoping love is a phoenix because if it isn't, everything is ash anyway.
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 08:12 am (UTC)