Untied Knots

Untied Knots I am not entitled to what I have 1 therefore therefore everything I have is stolen I’ve stolen it because because I’m not entitled to it Last year, two friends of mine ‘tied the knot’ while tying a knot. First, they cut off a piece of hair (both of them have very long hair) and then they braided both strands into one. It was a visa marriage: everything else that mattered that day was decorative. They were both dressed in colorful chiffon and silk; Elena and I were witnesses, respectively dressed in off- white and black. Part of our duty was to take photographs and sign a document with letters as curly and illegible as possible. My father told me to use at least one dot in my signature . . . . so that it could not be copied as easily, yet anything beautiful can incite an enthusiasm for theft. 2 The very idea of adding a dot to a signature was taken from his great grandfather, who passed it down to his grandfather, who passed it down to his father, who passed it down to him, then me. My signature lost its impenetrability via this relay route. The thing that was supposed to make it authentic is already a copy of a copy of a copy. When I consider the confirmation of a legal construction such as marriage with merely a copy, especially such a curly one, it seems to prove that legality itself steals and is often stolen. When I consider that some form of legality can function as a prerequisite for stability, then stability steals and seems to be stolen. When stability can feel like a claustrophobic straitjacket and very comfortable at the same time, then this comfort is inherently stolen, and the straitjacket can function as an escape. So let us wear our shiny ribboned coats! But also untie us! Untie us from our straitjacket and let us put it on again! But please, let me decorate it? Slap me in the face because I’m afraid someone in the street will! Ring my bell at night but let me paint my front door pink! Let me put thick red velvet around its tiny windows to illuminate that this, too, is just theatre! But don’t get too excited about this illumination! I’m not interested in your ideas about authenticity! Instead, find me a brass letter opener and leave me a message! My friend tied the knot and we choked our friendship with it. We changed our habitual ‘seeing each other everyday, sleeping at each other’s house, not fitting in each other’s clothes, but really wanting to’ into really wanting to. It’s the hierarchy of being swept off one’s feet by lover over friend, but also other mechanisms, like scarcity, time, that forces one to choose. The wedding just happened to happen and the backdrop was sunny weather and all the aforementioned fabrics and hairs; there was silver cutlery and later rain. The ornamentation of this day was highlighted when I was about to leave. I went to the bathroom and while on my way, my friend stopped me and handed me a small gift. I untie the wool thread that was curling across pink see-through paper. I open it and see: a small tortoise made of shell. I thank her and miss her and while I write this, tortoise looks over me. Notes 1 Adaptation of p. 35 in Knots (1970) by R.D. Laing, New York: Random House 2 From On Beauty and Being Just (2001) by Elaine Scarry, New Jersey: Princeton University Press