disgust is an epic, fragmented poem born of a week-long performance, a series of escalating constraints that send Emji Saint Spero spiraling into a frenzy and ultimately, a manic break. In this hesitant and hyper-confessional excavation of the quotidian, Saint Spero constructs a manual for maneuvering as a body under duress. Debased, abject, and perfectly problematic, it asks us to dissect the ways in which we are othered and the ways we are complicit in our own objectification. This transcript is an architecture built on lack and inter/dependence. Saint Spero’s language stumbles, stutters, interrupts itself, gets it wrong, doesn’t know what’s being asked of it, is left unfinished, exhausted, and is at its most clairvoyant in its collapse.
i read half of the book having no idea what was going on or what i was reading, talked to a friend who read it, then started back over and read it through to the end all in one sitting. after a year of sitting with my thoughts, i'm bumping my rating up to 5-stars from my original 4-star rating. it's one of the most unique pieces of writing ive had the pleasure of reading, and i havent stopped thinking about it even after all this time. i originally borrowed this book from the library. might need to find a copy for my shelves one day.