“The only way to cut this knot—this tangle of “natural” rights and claims to authority—is with a supernatural blade.” —Simone Weil
My gastroenterologist suggested I read Simone Weil. He was taking an online class and was alluding to the fact that my stomach issues were mental and maybe some existential philosophy might “cure” me.
Simone Weil. Saint Outsider. Holy anorexic.
Six-year-old Simone refused to eat sugar because the soldiers had none on the Western Front.
Weil was determined to remain human in the machine. On the production line, we play the role of things.
A generation of girls who saw themselves reflected in the round mirror of the CoverGirl compact, covering the shine, to salute beauty, missing the mark.
To be looked at. I offered my body up for sacrifice. I danced in my underwear in front of my open bedroom window to Ace of Base “The Sign” waiting for someone to pass by and see me. I jumped on the trampoline, laughing, screaming, higher and higher, waiting for the neighbor boys to notice me. To come over and jump, to come over and see me. To prove to ourselves we are alive.
“The Sign” described by Wikipedia as a techno-reggae, Europop, pop ballad by the Swedish pop group used the combination of ancient Egyption religious symbols ankh (life) and djed (stability) in the music video and it looks like a rejected brainwashing video for Derek Zoolander made with Record-a-Song at Six Flags.
I think of Simone Weil eating only what was rationed to the soldiers. Which turns out wasn’t enough. I tell the dentist I’m trying to decalcify my pineal gland and that’s why I won’t be taking the fluoride.
I recently read that the supernatural is actually the real natural and natural is unnatural. We’ve got everything mixed up. The big natural, a spectacle, ghosts and the unseen. My god. I slept next to an attempted murderer. How many times did he long to leave his mark.
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Vanessa Aricco is a writer living in Kansas City, MO. Some of her work can be found at vanessaaricco.com.
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image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 