Today I am offering you a video which did not inspire me to write this stream, but which has always been a dissonant element for my soul and my intellect.
Who was it that told you that people are in need of “rescue” from a state of being that is a dis-ease to you?
Who the hell told you that people leave traces in order to be saved by you, the enlightened ones? What if the traces, poorly hidden, are a clear trace of a person who is shouting: “Don’t shit on my tail”?
Sometimes I ask myself: Are you so good at dealing with repression, so faithful to your ideology, so distracted by the busyness of everyday life that you unconsciously feed, or are you fucking empty?
How is it possible that the wind never blows through your livers? How can two emotions never come together in such a way as to cause a tempest in one’s heart?
Why do you want to change the world, but at the same time you don’t stop for a second, why don’t you close your fucking eyes for a moment and let yourself be rocked by a stormy sea?
Why don’t you let yourself get thrown from edge to edge, from starboard to port, why don’t you let things and objects fall on you, why do you avoid the fear… that IS life? Why, before you are physically dead, why do you choose to be dead?
Why the hell do we have the luxury of making a judgement like the one I am making right now?
And you know that this sentence is going to be the key to all of this, because I have to disappear, I have to distract myself to let my soul speak in a body that is so homologated by the mind.
For you who are so damned linear, or if you are not but preach it: your sermons must fear life beyond death, the uncontrollable.
If you are not ready to receive the storm first, to welcome the wind, to be burned by the sun, to have your face ripped off by the wind, then don’t worry about fucking climate change.
You know everything, you’ve read everything about the World in the leaflets of your collagen, your anti-ageing cream.
How can you resign yourself to irrelevant love songs, which are always the same, a thousand titles that sum up each other?
Compromise, balancing, renouncing, repentance and remorse. Where is the end of our pure soul and the beginning of our ethically flawed soul?
Can power and respect live side by side? Is it possible to bury an emotion with reason, and to do so for a reason? And what is the nature of this reason in the first place? Can your soul’s freedom be directly proportional to your lifestyle? Life, understood as living in society, working and what not?
What is the right trade-off between the responsibility of society and the psychological protection of the individual?
There is a paradox: we are aware, with reason, that in order to be in search of ourselves, we have to weaken that same reason. In order to dull our senses and take care of our unconscious, we take alcohol and drugs. Isn’t this paradoxical?
Let’s be clear: I don’t want to be even remotely arrogant about wanting to get involved in discussing Phenomenon and Noumenon.
I don’t know why, but I came up with this answer: if what used to be crazy to you no longer seems so crazy to you, it means that you are not as intelligent and rational as you used to be, but that you have become crazy to the rest of civilisation too.
I promised myself not to stop when I jumped out of a moving train so fast that I could not perceive and see the world clearly. It would have been to smell the perfumes, to appreciate the paints, but also to step in shit and get wet by the rain.
My promise, the one I have to keep, is: Keep walking. I once ended a relationship because the other person did not like walking (in the true sense of the word). Now I know that it was not only for that reason, but I know that I really believed (that this was the real reason).
On the way to a new path, I met so many people who wanted to be part of this fast train. Telling them I was on that train was the biggest mistake I made.
The world of reason is a strange world, it is a world of names and places, people change their attitude and tone in accordance with the context. When I wrote it, I also thought it was an extraordinary skill. But sometimes, most of the time, we really do train ourselves to want that thing so badly that when we come into contact with it, we are either disappointed by it or we succumb to it.
Hey you guys out there, but do you ask yourself these fucking questions after you have made enough money to feed yourself and to survive? Do you ask these questions after you have earned enough to overwhelm your reason and take care of your innate?
I still get caught up in relationships, disappearing into the other, the other’s pleasures. So much so that I have no understanding of whether there is a me beyond the other. And the other is not just a person. It has been my real job for such a long time.
In all those people that you call crazy, in those states that you call apathetic, know that there are enlightenments. Don’t break my balls at this point, because you’re so good at it, just mind your own damn business.
There was a time when I had killed off so many of my addictions that I had become numb to the music:
Those sadly long years on my way were “the most artistically flourishing”… for you, but they were simply the most ethically respectful and closest to what you believe to be virtuosity and art. You didn’t get the shit, and I’m happy now to be able to look into your disappointment when I tell you what job I’m doing now. Maybe it is you who are in those faces that belong to those bodies that think that they are revolutionary or that they are superior. It’s not about being superior, it’s about being me.
Know that my soul is now sitting somewhere listening to “How to Disappear Completely”, while those who feel superior to me look at me with pity, and those next to me will talk about the next place they want to visit, because that’s where they want to take a photo, they’ll have it taken to get the perfect shot, of a place they’ll never know anything about, and of the photo itself, they’ll take care to see if it’s posed well enough to get a few likes and maybe a few shares.
Some photos smell than the place where I took them, I smell when I took them, I smell the emotions when I took them. I smell the stench that comes like a five centimetre long needle that injects the adrenaline right into your heart. Some songs, harmless to most, destroy you because they relate to the experience.
You are thinking about the nonsense of it all… well so am I and that’s the beauty of it. This post is a bunch of words that are going nowhere, but I hope that they will shake you a little while they are hurting me, while they are warming my heart, while they are making my body come alive.
As usual, this is a stream of consciousness that has not been reorganised. Do not expect it to be meaningful, do not expect it to be self-contradictory, do not expect it to be right.