Local Gestures
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Local Gestures

because the personal is cultural

In Which We Become Our Own Witness

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My head hurts and I feel like shit. I should turn off my computer, but I keep staring at the screen, listening to music and compulsively rating each song. While making lists is often thought of as taking control, in my case it feels like losing it.
 
Even as a child, I was obsessed with lists. Movies were my first love, and I would check off as many Oscar-nominated movies as I could, whatever few VHS tapes I could find at my small-town video store that appeared on whoever’s top ten list. Then books and music… I would print out every list I would find online and keep them in a binder.
 
Of course, I also made my own. Sometimes, I would become overwhelmed by the amount of time lost on these never-ending lists and delete them; only to build them back up again a few months later. Eventually, I decided that, instead of wasting even more time repeatedly making and deleting lists, I would just accept that it was part of who I am.

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In Which We Are Wherever We Go

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I’d been living in my basement apartment for six years, but I’d never bothered making it nice because Montreal didn’t feel like home to me. One of my biggest fears is dying here. There would be nobody to ship my body home, or to even know where that is.

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I’ve always been attracted to the ocean. On my last trips, I’ve gone to Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, British Columbia, and back to Newfoundland. I’ve been looking for a place for my body.

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