Sex is a song against gentrification

13177863_10153445614470974_308189432107682296_n.jpgWhere’s the sex OF the city? Say, of, the 20 million people that surround me – each is a nerve in a body in the general polyamory of the city. Now we face the bland cancer of the gentrified districts, where so many nerves are not exposed to funky pedestrians. But a healthy neighborhood is contentious, rubbing, shouting, laughing. 

In the last few years, the artificial hush of money has overtaken block after block, and in that sad landscape your own body in an imposter. Our bodies are baffled by the Puritanism of yuppies. We stand there in our clothes with our tits and balls and asses aching for their counterparts in the dancing bodies of others. 

But if we are stranded in the wrong neighborhood sexual contact can only come as packaged porn. The people in these districts meet with each other carefully, with mirroring gestures and accents, in the same clothes and with the same financial transactions… It’s the Great Flood, it’s the monoculture of the American dollar. 

Where do we find safety? The whirlwind of illegal music jamming in a park, where an understanding is struck by the circle of citizens with mobile hips that together we will heat up a point at the center of this music, like rubbing a stick with looped twine until it bursts into flame. What is this thing we’re making, in the middle of New York, without a permit? It is the Fabulous Unknown. 

Police are on their way but the faith that would save the city is already here in the arousal of this beat. We recognize the familiar mystery. A moan is rising in the laugh. The seed that starts change is in the cry of this song.