foreigners everywhere

...we keep on living, imagining, making, fucking, and we fight this society to death.

The possibilities of a revolutionary practice are already in front of us. It is a matter of penetrating the surface of our reality which appears to be so neutral and free of interest. At the same time, we can feel a spectral hand making us behave in a certain way. The hand of the normalisation process that does not let things get disrupted. The means to disturb this neutrality might be extremely simple; from talking to making noise, from acting different than usual to being utterly honest, from saying the most intimate things in public to being totally quiet when you should be having fun. To stop being so self-conscious about your reputation could also help. Surely it would mean to give up at least momentarily the restrictions of being the ‘yourself' of MySpace and Facebook. Why not become someone else? Fuck knows who, perhaps The Stranger.

I'm so unbearably desirous needy I can't think about art. Who can think about art in this miserable city? I think about sex so much my art must be sex. I think about sex all the time, and I try to stop myself. I tell myself I have to be stronger. I'm alone. I should revel in my loneliness. I'm in pain. I should revel in my pain. I shouldn't want to be with another person so much.

I'm sick of this society. "Earn a living" as if I'm not yet living; lobotomised and robotised from birth, they tell me I can't do anything I want to do in the subtlest and sneakiest way possible. They want to erase all possible hints that I've been born. I have two centres: love and my desire to sleep. I want only the moving toward exaltation, opening toward and becoming other people; the exaltation, then nothing, until it starts again. People are unused to love because they don't go far enough. As far as possible, and farther, into their intuited desires.