I build my puppets

Post attacks | 'I' faces 'we

I... don't see anything else possible than to stick to the 'I'. Because the other is not me. Because the other carries within him an unbearable part that is not me, but would be just as much if it were me. Because there is as much insurmountability in putting up with myself as with this other who is not me.

I have two problems to solve in life: surviving and living.

And you, you people, will not win against teenagers stretched like crossbows following the logic of an old thought; an adult thought that would like to be able to at least moralise those who don't care much about morality.

Children play at real-life war

If there is an escalation, it is who will be more involved in the conquest of authoritarianism. "Go do your homework" says one, "Kiss my ass" replies the other. "Go up to your room" says one, "Go to hell, old fart" retorts the other. Between ill-behaved children and imbued teachers, there remains the place of the litany of the soft and the destitute in panic at having to retaliate against the natural violence they thought they would never have to fight. Democratic mumbling finished in piss. Civilizations' square one. Go back to your copy.

What does a head produce?

This is a strange question, which implies that one should not necessarily always structure one's thinking, but rather let one's natural development run its course and look at what it might look like outside the social sphere. Here, specialist reasoning becomes weaker.

I am just an example of actual humanity. I take myself as such as an object, just another puppet.

But for all that, neither an object of study, nor an object of exception; an object resulting from a period, an era and a world. Like everyone else, I have nothing to say, in the sense of "you have nothing to say"; "you'd better shut up". However, in my growing uselessness as I age, for such is the reality of the ageing of everything, there remains this important tool: that of feeling free to say, to utter, to write anything and everything, especially that precious anythingI have a unique essence of what my head can produce, especially in spite of 'common sense'.

For no one has the power to tell me today which way is right. Everyone fails at this game of the finest. So, only I am left, you; each one in his own bubble of solitude as he writes. With the slim vain hope somewhere, that it rings or resonates, like a bronze bell. Vanity, but not only vanity. For an equally thin poetic pleasure resists, continues to exist; it gloats along the tenuous thread of the feeling of creativity. Weak, pale; it still wants to believe in it, while at the same time dying out, in this relative freedom to let words escape; a little more than signs in the heart of a scrawl. Not even paper; the computer. Virtuality of the virtual. Total uselessness.

It is in the total uselessness of one's existence that the impact of powerlessness takes shape

Look at that. It would like to survive anyway. But what can guide what is not even a rage; almost a game necessary to itself and a little beyond, sometimes and in a tiny way, useful?

But doesn't everything grow on this model? Novels, songs, religion, sociology, blah, blah, blah... This is the world of humans. Aberrant puppets, once without a body, once without a head; finding no reason to exist except to erect their own statuary. And yet it turns. And yet it only aims to write its own history. This is the sole purpose of Man: to persist in telling himself. In spite of and with the wars, the moments of joy and belief, each one as euphoric, narcissistic and stupid as the next. That's the human being; happy to live. The happy idiot, except for a few suicidal people who come to make fun of the others. Only children take their existence so seriously.

My God - who unfortunately will never exist - would it be so easy to be the children of mums/dads, double whipping/cajoling parents, two-headed empathic and telepathic puppets? Can we not purge man of his vain self-consciousness? Why did we let him find the word? What an unfathomable crime expression is!