Training is political 2

Part 2 – Desire Against Capitalism: A Sensory Insurrection

The hijacking of desire by capitalism

Lyotard saw it coming: capitalism doesn’t just sell products, it captures our desires. It redirects libido into productive, profitable, addictive forms. It no longer represses; it excites. It creates a space for constant erotic simulation where everything is friction, promise, excitement... without ever a real explosion.

Desire emptied of its force

We no longer feel; we like.
Libido becomes the driving force of production: you want, you consume, you want again. But you never inhabit your desire. You never let it transform you.

The closed loop of identification

In this closed loop, individuation dies from exhaustion. We become reflections. Avatars. Automata greased by marketing. Impulse replaces desire. Performance replaces experience. Consumption replaces exploration.

Where my gesture begins

And that’s where my gesture begins.
My body is an insurrection. I don’t mold bodies. I create spaces where something can emerge. Where a movement becomes revelation. Where a gesture becomes insubordination.

A dramaturgy of the sensible

I don’t teach strength, flexibility, or endurance. I don’t teach anything. Not: “How to become stronger?” But: “What moves through me? What moves me? What makes me want to continue?”
I offer a dramaturgy of the sensible. A theater of the body where the slightest movement can become an uprising. When I wear tight leggings to lift a kettlebell, it’s not a provocation. It’s a manifesto. A reworking of codes, genders, uses. It’s not fitness. It’s disobedience in heels.

Desire as a force of connection

With Deleuze and Guattari, desire ceases to be lack. It becomes machine. A force of production, connection, divergence. Desire links what was never meant to meet. It creates possibilities where there was only normality.

Refusing the norm, embracing the enigma

Traditional coaching channels, disciplines, rationalizes. I want overflow. I want excitement, not because of a norm to reach, but because of an enigma to inhabit. I want the breath to follow not a pulse per minute, but a fever. Desire has no training plan. It has oracles, storms, orgasms. It goes where it wants.

Eroticism as a sensitive method

And here’s where eroticism becomes central. Not as ornament, but as method. Eroticism is the intelligence of the body in tension. It’s the art of approach. It’s not the pornography of repetition, it’s the poetics of uncertainty.
Eroticism is a thought. A way of perceiving. A way of touching the world. As Bataille magnificently wrote, “eroticism is the approval of life even to the point of death” — to the loss of control, to the destabilization of self, to the trial of the other. Not the other as object, but as radical otherness.

Political gesture, poetic disturbance

This is where the gesture becomes political. What I show is not "sexual." It’s disturbance. Tremor. The ineffable. It’s what forces a reevaluation of what a body is, a gaze is, contact is.

Eroticism is not sexuality

Eroticism is not the pursuit of pleasure, still less a synonym for sexuality. It’s a total sensory act, an exploration of desire in all aspects of existence: gesture, creation, appearance, presence. It does not aim for satisfaction, but intensification. Where desire is an inner force, eroticism is its tangible manifestation — a way of inhabiting the world, feeling it, reinventing oneself in it.

The body as a channel for experience

At this moment, the body no longer belongs to culture, norms, or what it must be or feel, but becomes a channel for perception, raw and desirous experience. When it becomes total, eroticism overflows the bodies and roles. It settles into the tension of what touches, breathes, is guessed. The body is no longer an object or identity, but friction, threshold, passage. A space of disturbance and ephemerality where we explore the unknown of ourselves and others.

Eroticism as knowledge

It’s not a luxury or ornament: it’s a way of knowing. An embodied, immediate, vivid knowledge. An insurrection of the sensible against reduction. Eroticism becomes the power of revelation, a mode of experimenting with the real. It does not exhaust itself in personal satisfaction but opens paths — toward the invisible, toward the possible.

The body as a poetic weapon

Preciado speaks of somatic insurrection. Reinvesting your body. Reversing it. Hacking it. No longer using it as an interface for conformity, but as a place for producing meaning, conflict, beauty.
The body then becomes a poetic weapon. A lever to sabotage assignments. I am not a man, a woman, a trainer, a model. I am a terrain of libidinal experimentation. A desiring machine in high tension.

Beauty that disrupts

Lingis puts it in his own way: beauty doesn’t flatter, it demands. Beauty is what shakes you. What disturbs you. What creates a desire that doesn’t ask for permission. Beauty doesn’t seek to seduce. It strikes. It ravages. It doesn’t confirm the order of the world - it puts it into crisis. Beauty, here, is not conformity to an ideal, but the eruption of otherness.

Raw beauty, living beauty

Kant wanted beauty to be pure, ethereal, filtered from all sweat, all desire, all human scent. A “pure” pleasure. Hear: castrated. Beauty was meant to float above the impulses, like a dead leaf above a swamp. We looked, we nodded, but above all, we didn’t dirty our pants.
Lingis, however, doesn’t wash his hands after touching beauty. He plunges into it. He gets aroused. He cries. He trembles. Because what is beautiful doesn’t please us — it takes us.
Beauty cannot be measured in likes. It is measured in shivers.

An embodied thought, an insurrection of the sensible

What I seek is this beauty. The one that disturbs. That destabilizes regimes of visibility. I don’t want my images to please. I want them to stay stuck in the throat. To make them sweat. To make them react and think at the same time. I want thought to have texture, smell, vertigo.

Training as a crossing

And this is my way of training: creating contexts where thought is incarnated. Where movement becomes event. Where individuation reclaims its rights against automation.
My coaching is a crossing. A process of subjectivation. A training in the unknown. Not to improve you. But to make you more alive. To have you be traversed, displaced, exaggerated. To have your body become a territory of fiction, inquiry, struggle.

Freedom as the invention of presence

Because that’s where freedom lies: not in the accomplishment of a program, but in the invention of new forms of presence. Precarious, troubled, embodied forms. Desiring forms.

B.R.