Notes towards a Deformed Humanities

I don’t want to put Humpy Dumpty back together. Let him lie there, a cracked shell oozing yolk. He is broken. And he is beautiful. The smell, the colors, the flow, the texture, the mess. All of it, it is unavailable until we break things. And let’s not soften our critical blow by calling it deformance. Name it what it is, a deformation. In my vision of the Deformed Humanities,…