Revising a narrative

by Arran James

Remembering C., who in one version of history I would be living with now, and remembering her ensemble of pathologies, deficits which suddenly strike me as her perfections. An anorexic model and stripper, trading her ‘eroto-capital’ in order to have fun, to buy access to moments and to style herself in that perfect way she did, utterly beautiful and devastatingly sharp. A true hedonist, snorting coke for pleasure, bombing speed to get up and out, to do this piece of writing or that job. I re-frame my memories of her, my representations of her. I realise that in having fallen in love with her I had fallen in love with an image of capital; in fucking her I was fucking that which is Exhausting and Exhausted.

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