from "1++1"

by Teresa Carmody

A tracer traces. In order to trace, there must be one and another one. The act of tracing subverts the original, turning the traced in turn into that which can be traced—a new original made by copying the old original.

“Compounding objects,” writes Allison Carter, “is a way to make out of their borders.” (37) To make out of. The edges of one make the other. The one across the table. In the bed.

To trace is a relational act, an engagement.

And because we are messy, full of patterns learned and inherited, “[p]erverse collaborations ensue.” (57) There’s Sophie Robinson asking, “[w]hose language can I appropriate, queer up, violate?” (56) Tracing, and having fun eating (in) (with) (out) our girlfriend, despite “[t]he sense of loss, before [we’ve] even begun, […] the sense of being overwritten.” (58) “I shake your hand and you wash it. Some of me gets in.” (Carter 37)

A tracer is ammunition containing a chemical substance that leaves a trail of smoke or fire, illuminating the night so as to make the target visible for others. It is a collaborative kind of ammunition, a working together toward a common goal.

[continues in TrenchArt: Tracer, become a member and read more]