On Trajal Harrell's “Juliet and Romeo”:

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“A beautiful rendition of Romeo and Juliet with an all-male cast. It was a mix of contemporary dance and theatre in a quite bare stage. The loosely woven narrative was often interrupted by a catwalk show, where all the performers would parade around barefooted but with their sole of their feet slightly raised off the floor as if they were wearing heels. They kept parading around the stage, in sets of two, each pair's feet synced to the same pace, sometimes gently holding clothes against their chests.

The pairs would change and the dynamics were regularly shifted. One of them was holding a jacket with the name Romeo in it, he tried it on, pranced around a bit more and then passed it along to someone else, and then that someone passed it along too, and so forth. All these boys in imaginary heels were passing what meant to be Romeo, what meant to be Juliet, around. They were temporarily assuming what it's to be tragically in love and then, moving on.

It was a queer rendering of one of the most foundational narratives on love. But it was a rendering that allowed love to be somewhat interchangeable, transmutable. There was death, and sorrow but it seemed to imply that the tragedy of love is not to loose the one, but the many constantly drifting away.

I remember looking at the jacket being passed around and thinking that maybe, by the end of it, it would smell like everyone. It made me think that perhaps, queer means to me to have a capacity to bend, to be permeable and to allow things to seep in even if perhaps, all these small tuggings away from yourself onto others might finally dissolve certain things that you're not willing to give up.”

 

 

Fragment of 'To tame time':

 

“Step in false. What is this falseness you refer to? I keep thinking about surfaces and the capacities or incapacities of something to give in, yield. I keep everything I’m talking about somewhere in my body and for a while it's there hanging, clinging on to me like a baby tooth that’s about to come out. Like that thing kids do when they have a loose tooth, they attach a string to the doorknob, tie it to their half fallen baby tooth and pull.

I'm here and I have all these things that are about to fall out but they're still loosely hanging off my gum and there is such an urgency that I’m about to tie them to a doorknob and pull. My head aches. My pussy aches. Every time something is about to make sense, two reactions occur simultaneously: my head aches, my pussy aches.”