Handled With Care Print

My personal disgust threshold was always pretty low. All these benighted people needed to have their complacencies rattled. I was meant to take up that risk, defy the censors, search out & assault social norms (as an artist). I eventually came to play the role of a heroic transgressor  (which had its own assorted vanities & occlusions). Violating the boundaries of less powerful people for my own amusement made me feel like a creative genius. I measured my success in outrage generated. I was no one’s victim. It was probable to offend people, because offended people I generally regarded as morons. I was the rebellious, anti-establishment one, gleefully disrupting the status quo. Sublimating aggression into art was what made me feel alive ( potentially transcendent). In my childhood, I was overly self-aware. It just wasn’t clear, what caused such feelings of self-consciousness. Sometimes I felt fulfilled & stimulated, at other times, my extra-sensory perception intensified the shock, confusion, panic, euphoria, anxiety. However I draw my casualty arrows, (there is no doubt) the more fun I started having, the more humorless I could speak on the pedagogy of dissociation. I positioned myself always on the wrong side of exchange of the electromagnetic fields, & (the result) an instinctive antipathy to the world. What’s left out of this transgression story are the rewards of feeling affronted . Witness the new gatekeeper & entrepreneur, building not insignificant amounts of power of a valuable enterprise. I used to know what transgression was  (but that’s not plausible anymore ).