MY DICK
MY FRIEND

I'm a man. I like to be what I am in the first place. I like my impulses. I like my sex when it stands up as much as when it stands flaccid. I like to live at my own pace exclusively. I am an individual; not a social animal. My sociability is a lie to me, a truth to others. Nothing of my intimate being reaches completely outside. Yet when I exhibit myself, through writing, images or on stage, the background of what animates me is immediately made visible. It is the situation of vulnerability that alone can give all its strength to my ephemeral existence. This is what makes me take advantage of it; that I can be in disposition to enjoy it. I consider with profound disdain the easy imbecility of my contemporaries, which tends to value the value not to consider it as a notion that is not only grotesque, subjective and unfounded, but essentially a source of oppression in all societies that overwhelm us with their hierarchizations, whether culturally sententious or hysterically populist. The ritualization of our lives is the worst thing that has happened to us since the dawn of human time; in other words, what is done, what one has to do to be considered, to be integrated: the use of the air of time, of the prefabricated phrase, the voluntary absence of singularity, the respect of rites.

I hate debates and ideas that are just ideas. I don't hope for the future of humanity as it is. I don't believe in its ability to progress, to become less stupid and mediocre. I have more exchanges with my cock than with most humans. What is humanity apart from its vehement ability to consume and produce enough to satisfy its consumer appetites?

But you have to look at things effectively and look beyond the terrifying reality. You have to be able to see things differently. You have to know how to talk so you can shut up.