Wednesday, July 29, 2009

So I just discovered a kind of aspbergers in which people develop sexual attractions, and even love bonds, with objects. I also found an excerpt from a documentary on Youtube about a woman who is in love with a rollercoaster. At first I thought it would be kind of kooky, but it was actually one of the more profoundly sad things I've seen, next to the sight of physical distress.

According to Wikipedia (yeah, I know), these people believe in the animus in things, and that's what they're...focusing on, I guess. Personally, I think the idea of nature or objects having a spirit something like our "soul" is interesting, but also smacks of a kind of homo-jingoism. It is implying that the true value in these things is that part of ourselves we can see in it. It is ignoring the thing itself, and instead trying to foist our own (imagined) qualities onto it. Kind of like eating at McDonalds in Paris--why travel all that way to be at home? It lacks imagination and perspective.

I'm talking about ideas of animus in general, but with these objectophiles, what I'm saying, and of course, I'm no expert, but these people seem to be projecting their own feelings onto these objects, and then responding to that mirror image.

I don't mean to sound like I'm judging or anything like that. I'm just trying to understand. Lots of "normal" people seem to be in "lust" with things--cars, clothes, etc. These things feed their self-image. And yet many times these people have no respect for their things--they cast off the new car every year or two, buy new clothes whenever a button drops off. It is a never-ending quest for fulfillment. Much of this is a response to marketing and learned bahavior. Objectophiles just seem more pronounced. They actually love things, or claim to. Is this better or worse? Is the woman who marries the Eiffel Tower any worse off than the workoholic who devotes all of his life energies to acquiring toys?

Who can say. I suppose, to answer this, one must have a working theory towards the purpose of living other than just living, which I do not. All I can say is that I think either way of living must be stressful in certain ways. But I definately find Mrs. Eiffel more interesting than the Joneses.

1 comment:

Glenn Buttkus said...

As you have pointed out, and implied in countless poems, just understanding "love" can be a life long pursuit. Metaphysically, understanding that each of us, as powerful spiritual entities, co-created this universe, it helps
to understand when someone "relates" to an inanimate
object. I know for a fact, that when I talk to my old cars (I have a '92 Isuzu pick up with 196,000 miles on it presently), they run
better, last longer, strand me less. Kind of like talking to plants, and babies still in the womb. Somehow midst the mysteries
of it all, at the genetic, at the sub-atomic level, certain things
for certain people, get out of
alignment. Thus we have people
who like to masterbate on shoes,
or sniff women's bicycle seats,
or prefer same sex partners, or enjoy pain or humiliation. You have your finger on the pulse of some anomoly that I suspect will emerge as a CL poem soon.