Journal Interrobang's Journal: (An) Indefense of Marriage -- Poets and Sweet Hackers
Before you read this venting of spleen and/or intellectual rumination (that's "cud-chewing"), go read this article if you haven't already. Written, I can only assume (from the discussion and attitudes therein), by a conservative Christian (all too mainstream these days, I think -- the opening reference to Lilith is a dead giveaway, considering other historical precedents), the Salon piece pretty much exposes those "societal expectations and permissions enforced by law" that I may or may not have mentioned earlier.
In case I didn't, I'm pretty sure that some of them are monogamy, what the author of the above-mentioned Salon piece (Jonathon Keats) refers to quaintly as "the nation of two," possession, the purity of married love, the sanctity and value (in all senses) of married sex (more on this later, but as of this writing, the lay I've gotten by which I measure all others has already happened, and I ain't married -- and neither was the other person involved!), and the legal and societal benefits (such as tax incentives available to married couples not available to co-householders of other stripes, although more on that minefield later).
Before I get into some of the other stuff (this previous paragraph is only beginning to scratch the surface), I'm going to look at each of these points sequentially, so no one gets lost in my tangled web of rhetoric. All three of you.
Monogamy:Biologically, apparently, the jury's still out. However, Robert Herrick, John Donne, and all the swingers out there kinda put the lie to that one. Also, as a confirmed and habitual polyamorist (in the classical sense, not the sense in which it's used in the contemporary sex underground, necessarily), monogamy may be a nice place to visit, but I'm not sure I want to live there. I don't really like (some of) the neighbours.
Not to mention that metaphorically speaking some malicious black hat has root on my system!
The Nation of Two:(My goodness, what an odious phrase!) Here's good old Coventry Patmore again, on the subject of wedding vows:
And gravely to be enter'd then,
For children, godliness, and, aid
Right. So what happens when you don't want children, don't believe in gods, and are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself?
Seems like a lot of contemporary thought on marriage still centres around these old(ish) Victorian stereotypes. Unfortunately, that which alleges to elevate only denigrates. Patmore's "angel in the house" isn't really useful, and doesn't seem to have any sort of intrinsic personality; she has personality only in the same way the moon has light -- by reflection. (Women are people, not mirrors!)
I also don't understand this concept of (as Keats put it -- hmm, I guess I'm just in a poetic frame of mind!) "that nation of two deadset against the world." Why? Does everyone else get this feeling besides me?
Interestingly enough, I note that Keats' arguments against mistressism (I follow the poet who said, "Go, unleash thy mighty mind/And be the mistress of mankind!") and for marriage centre deeply in the notion of love as economic exchange, where economic is either some perceived monetary value, or other, more abstract currencies, such as (Keats says), "the unit of love is life." I'm not to be bought nor sold, not rented, leased, given, nor loaned, and neither is my love(r).
Which brings us to
Permanence: As Keats observes (more later), this world is notoriously shy on permanence. In a world of contract jobs, month-by-month rentals and non-renewable leases, no guarantees, illness, death, divorce, disaster, hand-to-mouth living, and a constant state of flux (our scientist friends call this quite normal state "punctuated equilibrium" and I suggest one get used to it), "forever" is just a really long time, if that.
On the other hand, who needs it? Security would be nice, but since it's never going to happen, I'm not going to hold my breath or stay up at night waiting for it.
So I certainly don't need some sort of outside socializing agency (be it a government or a church) to sell me a bill of goods and try to tell me that you can have it all (at least in one area), when it's blatantly obvious that you can't. Sign up on those grounds? Mr. Keats, surely thou jesteth.
Married Love and Sex: Abstinence crusaders take note: Sometimes the best sex and/or love you can ever have happens outside of marriage. The other half of that unpleasant (to some) home truth is that those who don't explore their options before (ahem) espousing marital brand loyalty never find that out, and often "live to repent in leisure." (As one famous line from "Mississipi Burning" goes, "Girls around here spend all of high school looking for the boy they're going to marry, and the rest of their lives regretting it.")
I am reminded especially at this point of "If Wishes Were Horses" by W.P. Kinsella. In that novel, the hero, Joe McCoy, encounters the best sexual and love experience of his life while still in high school, in his relationship with his high school sweetheart, Maureen Renn. (By the way, if you haven't read "If Wishes Were Horses," do.)
Anyway, the whole base canard seems to be tied up in Victorian notions of purity and the Victorian notion of the home. As one of my exes said, "The best thing about the Victorians is that they're all dead." Maybe Mr. Keats never heard that. He says, "In a society otherwise devoid of permanence, a world otherwise lacking any sense of purpose whatsoever, married fighting is the most painful, married sex the most pleasurable, married love the most meaningful." Why? Why does it take the permission and legitimization of an outside socializing agency to make sex better and maximize emotional involvement?
The short answer is that it doesn't. The longer answer is that maybe some people are too fucking stupid to be able to conduct a private relationship to its fullest extent without help from the state.
The Legal Minefield: While it appears that laws may be changing here and at home (legitimizing same-sex marriage, itself another question, and delegitimizing the evil "spouse in the house" rule), marriage is nevertheless at least partly (entirely in my unchurched state) a legal affair. The law in this case basically makes you responsible for the other person, an onerous burden (legally speaking) in the best of circumstances, and a dire tragedy in the worst. It gets especially wrinkled in cases such as the aforementioned "spouse in the house" rule, where the government basically assumes that if you lack a penis, you must (of needs?) be living with someone who provides for you, and obligates your housemate (not necessarily the Victorian "helpmeet") to take care of you financially. Who said, "Possession is nine points of the law"?
Personally I find this rather odious, as I don't believe that anyone should (legally or otherwise) own anyone else, whether that's an actual possession (we usually refer to that practice as "slavery," and no one really wants to be chattel, I think), or at minimum a legal obligation.
Here we go back to the contrary Mr. Patmore:
Because, in short,
She 's not and never can be mine.
From "The Married Lover"
Stay tuned for more spleen-venting on the subject later.
In case I didn't, I'm pretty sure that some of them are monogamy, what the author of the above-mentioned Salon piece (Jonathon Keats) refers to quaintly as "the nation of two," possession, the purity of married love, the sanctity and value (in all senses) of married sex (more on this later, but as of this writing, the lay I've gotten by which I measure all others has already happened, and I ain't married -- and neither was the other person involved!), and the legal and societal benefits (such as tax incentives available to married couples not available to co-householders of other stripes, although more on that minefield later).
Before I get into some of the other stuff (this previous paragraph is only beginning to scratch the surface), I'm going to look at each of these points sequentially, so no one gets lost in my tangled web of rhetoric. All three of you.
Monogamy:Biologically, apparently, the jury's still out. However, Robert Herrick, John Donne, and all the swingers out there kinda put the lie to that one. Also, as a confirmed and habitual polyamorist (in the classical sense, not the sense in which it's used in the contemporary sex underground, necessarily), monogamy may be a nice place to visit, but I'm not sure I want to live there. I don't really like (some of) the neighbours.
Not to mention that metaphorically speaking some malicious black hat has root on my system!
The Nation of Two:(My goodness, what an odious phrase!) Here's good old Coventry Patmore again, on the subject of wedding vows:
And gravely to be enter'd then,
For children, godliness, and, aid
Right. So what happens when you don't want children, don't believe in gods, and are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself?
Seems like a lot of contemporary thought on marriage still centres around these old(ish) Victorian stereotypes. Unfortunately, that which alleges to elevate only denigrates. Patmore's "angel in the house" isn't really useful, and doesn't seem to have any sort of intrinsic personality; she has personality only in the same way the moon has light -- by reflection. (Women are people, not mirrors!)
I also don't understand this concept of (as Keats put it -- hmm, I guess I'm just in a poetic frame of mind!) "that nation of two deadset against the world." Why? Does everyone else get this feeling besides me?
Interestingly enough, I note that Keats' arguments against mistressism (I follow the poet who said, "Go, unleash thy mighty mind/And be the mistress of mankind!") and for marriage centre deeply in the notion of love as economic exchange, where economic is either some perceived monetary value, or other, more abstract currencies, such as (Keats says), "the unit of love is life." I'm not to be bought nor sold, not rented, leased, given, nor loaned, and neither is my love(r).
Which brings us to
Permanence: As Keats observes (more later), this world is notoriously shy on permanence. In a world of contract jobs, month-by-month rentals and non-renewable leases, no guarantees, illness, death, divorce, disaster, hand-to-mouth living, and a constant state of flux (our scientist friends call this quite normal state "punctuated equilibrium" and I suggest one get used to it), "forever" is just a really long time, if that.
On the other hand, who needs it? Security would be nice, but since it's never going to happen, I'm not going to hold my breath or stay up at night waiting for it.
So I certainly don't need some sort of outside socializing agency (be it a government or a church) to sell me a bill of goods and try to tell me that you can have it all (at least in one area), when it's blatantly obvious that you can't. Sign up on those grounds? Mr. Keats, surely thou jesteth.
Married Love and Sex: Abstinence crusaders take note: Sometimes the best sex and/or love you can ever have happens outside of marriage. The other half of that unpleasant (to some) home truth is that those who don't explore their options before (ahem) espousing marital brand loyalty never find that out, and often "live to repent in leisure." (As one famous line from "Mississipi Burning" goes, "Girls around here spend all of high school looking for the boy they're going to marry, and the rest of their lives regretting it.")
I am reminded especially at this point of "If Wishes Were Horses" by W.P. Kinsella. In that novel, the hero, Joe McCoy, encounters the best sexual and love experience of his life while still in high school, in his relationship with his high school sweetheart, Maureen Renn. (By the way, if you haven't read "If Wishes Were Horses," do.)
Anyway, the whole base canard seems to be tied up in Victorian notions of purity and the Victorian notion of the home. As one of my exes said, "The best thing about the Victorians is that they're all dead." Maybe Mr. Keats never heard that. He says, "In a society otherwise devoid of permanence, a world otherwise lacking any sense of purpose whatsoever, married fighting is the most painful, married sex the most pleasurable, married love the most meaningful." Why? Why does it take the permission and legitimization of an outside socializing agency to make sex better and maximize emotional involvement?
The short answer is that it doesn't. The longer answer is that maybe some people are too fucking stupid to be able to conduct a private relationship to its fullest extent without help from the state.
The Legal Minefield: While it appears that laws may be changing here and at home (legitimizing same-sex marriage, itself another question, and delegitimizing the evil "spouse in the house" rule), marriage is nevertheless at least partly (entirely in my unchurched state) a legal affair. The law in this case basically makes you responsible for the other person, an onerous burden (legally speaking) in the best of circumstances, and a dire tragedy in the worst. It gets especially wrinkled in cases such as the aforementioned "spouse in the house" rule, where the government basically assumes that if you lack a penis, you must (of needs?) be living with someone who provides for you, and obligates your housemate (not necessarily the Victorian "helpmeet") to take care of you financially. Who said, "Possession is nine points of the law"?
Personally I find this rather odious, as I don't believe that anyone should (legally or otherwise) own anyone else, whether that's an actual possession (we usually refer to that practice as "slavery," and no one really wants to be chattel, I think), or at minimum a legal obligation.
Here we go back to the contrary Mr. Patmore:
Because, in short,
She 's not and never can be mine.
From "The Married Lover"
Stay tuned for more spleen-venting on the subject later.
