I took a walk and it became a shoe.
I used a real camera, I call it real and camera, because I want to give it that name. I can call it whatever I want, but I should think about what that says about me, what that means for me and my environment, my political microcosmos, if and when I do. The decisions you make, you don't make them for yourself, only.
I started nearly all of the sentences with that one letter word, which is supposed to do justice to my personal and interpersonal construction of subjectivity.
The picture had wonderful shades of red, it did, and it had a shoe on it, a representation of a shoe, pictorial.
This evening the first time came around that I should miss and am missing my class of portuguese, simply, because I do not feel like meeting people, seeing people, interacting with human beings directly. Happened again, easy as that.
There is a fight going on inside of me.
I am carrying it out with means of associative writing, I am also settling it and unsettling it, thinking about tortured artists.
I am circling -
This is something of a follow up to a very old post
The tortured artist is a stock character and real-life stereotype who is in constant torment due to frustrations with art and other people. Tortured artists feel alienated and misunderstood due to the perceived ignorance or neglect of others who do not understand them and the things they feel are important. They sometimes smoke, experience sexual frustration and recurring heartbreak, and generally appear overwhelmed by their own emotions and inner conflicts. They are often mocked in popular culture for "thinking too much", being quixotic, or coming across as pretentiously adverse to happiness and fun. Other stereotypical traits vary between extremes – from being narcissistic andextroverted to being self-loathing and introverted. Tortured artists are often self-destructive in behavior and are generally associated with mental health issues such as substance abuse, personality disorders, or depression.
I strongly believe that pop culture can and cannot save us.
I started nearly all of the sentences with that one letter word, which is supposed to do justice to my personal and interpersonal construction of subjectivity.
The picture had wonderful shades of red, it did, and it had a shoe on it, a representation of a shoe, pictorial.
This evening the first time came around that I should miss and am missing my class of portuguese, simply, because I do not feel like meeting people, seeing people, interacting with human beings directly. Happened again, easy as that.
There is a fight going on inside of me.
I am carrying it out with means of associative writing, I am also settling it and unsettling it, thinking about tortured artists.
I am circling -
This is something of a follow up to a very old post
The tortured artist is a stock character and real-life stereotype who is in constant torment due to frustrations with art and other people. Tortured artists feel alienated and misunderstood due to the perceived ignorance or neglect of others who do not understand them and the things they feel are important. They sometimes smoke, experience sexual frustration and recurring heartbreak, and generally appear overwhelmed by their own emotions and inner conflicts. They are often mocked in popular culture for "thinking too much", being quixotic, or coming across as pretentiously adverse to happiness and fun. Other stereotypical traits vary between extremes – from being narcissistic andextroverted to being self-loathing and introverted. Tortured artists are often self-destructive in behavior and are generally associated with mental health issues such as substance abuse, personality disorders, or depression.
I strongly believe that pop culture can and cannot save us.
Next step, failing audibly!
Speak, talk in this bloody language. Loudly.
And my final goal is to write a text in it. This is not the wish to command it, or to have command of it, to shape it to my will. No, no, no.
