Food And Sex Essay

2330 Words 10 Pages
IT seems incredibly obvious to write a novel about two of humanities core afflictions. Food and sex. The drive towards both are integral to human survival. Most wars are raged over them.

Eating a crumpet, syrup dripping down your wrist. You ask me, What is this? I respond. That is what is keeping you alive.

“Has it ever occurred to you that food is intensely social? There is so much to think about before you eat. The origins of food…the social politics of its production.”

The social production of food is understanding that eating is something which raises fundamentally ethical questions. Understanding where the food you consume comes from. It’s thinking about how we eat bananas picked by child slaves in Ecuador. It’s understanding the
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The public sphere as more of a place of cultivating an outer world, or transparent community as a way of unity. Social life has increasingly gravitated towards the nuclear family under the protection from anxiety, or capital. Families are a unit where altruism is cultivated and can exist. The functioning of the family unit as a method makes sense.

It is much easier for humans to be more attracted to faces that are similar to their own. But mostly I think we have this unconscious drive towards similarity, as synonymous with comfort, ease, and singularity. There is no one that looks like me.

Eating and sex are synonymous with comfort, home and belonging. The individual struggles to stay alive around sustained units of love and caring. Left alone, like a flower, it will wilt and die. The biological drive towards food and sex are integral to survival. But we all exist in different wavelengths of being in time, of nothingness. These urges, are, at the biological level what it is, or what it means to be human.

Don’t you ever wish you could become a plant? A succulent, in an untended garden bed. You compete for sunlight. You would have to be coloured
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“No” lacks a bloodstream, she forgets it can become a complete sentence.

Susan Sontag was at the fore of Semiotext(e) in the way that she encouraged readers to look at France as a banquet of theoretical and artistic delights and discussions which had been previously kept from their English speaking counterparts. In this way Sylvere was only extricating Sontag from her throne, her title.

It’s no secret that a white man would attempt to steal her thunder.

I went to a talk series the other day and someone called Chris Kraus a man, and for some reason I was deeply offended. Under the influence of alcohol as the only time when I permit myself to occupy space. And so, abstaining, we shrink further and further into our thoughts and belonging.

You say: ‘Sorry, I don’t really feel like having sex right now’. I say, ‘That’s okay, but, you do realise we just had sex, right?’

I don’t know, or I forget if I really exist.
I wake in the morning after having a dream in which I was listening to the shadow of your heartbeat through a

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