By dint of contorting oneself to be accepted, one ends up breaking one's spine. Art doesn't make a profession of having a supple spine. Neither do I, who am not a gymnast.
Maybe you won't, either, if you're not a worm. I want to stay a stranger.
I WANT TO STAY A STRANGER.
Incomplete Things | Good, Evil and Other Absolute Things Quickly Seen
Does a stranger always have to have a crooked nose?
Stranger to everything ? Stranger to you ?
I love the Eldorado of my little imaginary dictatorship and I dream of a world where my beloved fools would never have a voice. But this time I take it from them; I give it to them. In memory of us, in memory of you... In mirror of us. Mirror of you.
Want to say it's not my world. Want to say that I don't want this urban, civic, social conviviality of all the moments after which life together would like to run. Want to say that your sharing, an obligatory value of the present times, suffocates me. That your debate... ah the debate, the ideas of others. Do I need it? No, I don't think you do. I don't feel anything of that order. I yearn for the city not dead, but dead and unguarded. The translucent city, especially not pink or green or any other colour. The look that respects me is also the look that doesn't look at me. And in a way, none of this is my business. Your festive excitement makes me almost nauseous. There is no identity in following the collective. I want to remain a stranger.
In the social venues of the masquerade, you don't make art, let alone invite it. By going to your spaces of shared conviviality, you trample on it. There is only shit you walk in like this, without realizing where you have set foot.
By dint of contorting oneself to be accepted, one ends up breaking one's spine. Art doesn't make a profession of having a supple spine. Neither do I, who am not a gymnast. Maybe you're not a gymnast either, if you're not a worm. I want to remain a stranger.
Loving the other because he loves you is the first of cowardice. Wanting to please in order to be loved is the second.
We must not ask more of human nature than it can give.
The answers do not bring new questions but other even more narrow answers. The scope of an oxygen-free scenario is very limited. It seems to make sense, but it doesn't open up anything.
There is everywhere this fierce love of morbidity, of anti-poetry. Well, almost everywhere. I'm talking about what works enough to survive; what is relatively successful, what some people follow with interest. Fortunately, there are also a few series, a few video games that we don't understand everything and that don't care about an appearance of rationalism to be true.
Refusing is the best thing there is to do...
Opening up isn't being nice, stupid.
Loving is just being stupid.
To say no is to distance yourself.
Then we'll see.
I'm not sure.
Live audio | Capture
Perhaps the first misogyny to give up would be to break with the idea that women are beautiful...
You only have to go out on the street to see that this is not especially the case. No more than for other things; men, dogs, cats, trees. Or maybe everyone is. Neither beautiful nor good, neither ugly nor sweet. In this case, the interested parties should also give up this little legend that most of them would like to maintain. You'll tell me, even today old decatis are beautiful, aren't they? Everything is beautiful, everything is ugly and the children are wonderful, right?
In these jovial and humorous times, we do what we can to swallow the silhouette of death, but there's like a stop at the throat, don't you think?
Come on; it's not bad, but can do better. Go back to studying; unplug your facebook and think with your only brain in silence; the only true one that exists; the silence of death.
Your complacency is your bullshit, remember?
We always see cowards hiding behind the law. It is a strong habit that this creeping attitude passes for citizenship. It hates cops and it comes to saying, Mister, Mister he hurt me. Now the collaborators are on the social networks with their ouh ouh punishment, ah ouh ouh outrage, ah ouh outrage. They're always where it screams the loudest. But if it's to say the bad guys are bad, there's really no need to think or be an artist, engaged as they say. Yes, but by whom?
Thinking you're a good person is the most inept, vain and reprehensible thing in the world from my little vantage point.
As such, I think I have more sympathy for the frank bastards than for the informers. Finally, let's not exaggerate. Besides, these second ones are probably exactly the same as the first ones, with less balls? Thought adorned with humanism oozes here and there in a few comments of revolt that don't cost much, in three keystrokes on a computer keyboard. It's like a drop of piss making its way down the slope of a vast thigh. We'll see who will shout the loudest haro at the jackass until he gets some advantage out of it.