1. Basic Instinct (Paul Verhoeven, 1992) from Human Consumption.
2. J.G Ballard, The Atrocity Exhibition (1970).
"In the post-Warhol era a single gesture such as uncrossing one’s legs will have more significance than all the pages in War and Peace.”
Nietzsche's Typewriter →
"Sometime in 1882, Friedrich Nietzsche bought a typewriter—a Malling-Hansen Writing Ball, to be precise. His vision was failing, and keeping his eyes focused on a page had become exhausting and painful, often bringing on crushing headaches. He had been forced to curtail his…
Thank you to my friend M at Darksilenceinsuburbia for leading me to Marie and her amazing paintings. George aka streetsick
“My melancholy wants to rest in the hiding places and abysses of perfection. That is why I need music.”
—The Gay Science, §368 (edited excerpt).
"When a woman seeks permission to establish herself as a public prostitute, this is comical. We properly feel that it is difficult to become something respectable (so that when a man is refused permission to become master of the hounds, for example, this is not comical), but to be refused permission to become something despicable, is a contradiction. To be sure, if she receives permission, it is also comical, but the contradiction is differently, namely, that the legal authority shows it’s impotence precisely when it shows it’s power: it’s power by giving permission, it’s impotence by not being able to make it permissible."
Johannes Climacus, Concluding Unscientific Postscript
"It is related of a peasant who came to the Capital, and had made so much money that he could buy himself a pair of shoes and stockings and still had enough left over to get drunk on- it is related that as he was trying in his drunken state to find his way home he lay down in the middle of the highway and fell asleep. Then along came a wagon, and the driver shouted to him to move or he would run over his legs. Then the drunken peasant awoke, looked at his legs, and since by reason of the shoes and stockings he didn’t recognize them, he said to the driver, “Drive on, they are not my legs."
Anti-Climacus, The Sickness Unto Death
"As it befell Parmeniscus in the legend, who in the cave of Trophonius lost the power to laugh, but got it again on the island of Delos, at the sight of the shapeless block exhibited there as the image of the goddess Leto, so it has befallen me.
When I was young, I forgot how to laugh in the cave of Trophonius; when I was older, I opened my eyes and beheld reality, at which I began to laugh, and since then I have not stopped laughing.
I saw that the meaning of life was to secure a livelihood, and that its goal was to attain a high position; that life’s rich dream was marriage with an heiress; that friendship’s blessing was help in financial difficulties; that wisdom was what the majority assumed it to be; that enthusiasm consisted in making a speech; that it was courage to risk the loss of ten dollars; that kindness consisted in saying “You are welcome,” at the dinner table; that piety consisted in going to communion once a year.
This I saw, and I laughed."
"When Phillip threatened to lay siege to the city of Corinth, and all its inhabitants hastily bestirred themselves in defense, some polishing weapons, some gathering stones, some repairing the walls, Diogenes seeing all this hurriedly folded his mantle about him and began to roll his tub zealously back forth through the streets. When he was asked why he did this he replied that he wished to be busy like all the rest, and rolled his tub lest he should be the only idler among so man industrious citizens."
Johannes Climacus, Philosophical Fragments
"Whenever and wherever it is possible to speak of recognition, there is eo ipso a prior hiddenness”
-Kierkegaard, 'Fear & Trembling'
Richard Avedon Allen Ginsberg, New York City 1963
The weight of the world
Under the burden
under the burden
the weight we carry
Who can deny?
looks out of the heart
burning with purity—
for the burden of life
but we carry the weight
and so must rest
in the arms of love
must rest in the arms
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
the final wish
—cannot be bitter,
the weight is too heavy
for no return
in all the excellence
of its excess.
The warm bodies
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye—
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to the body
where I was born.
—Allen Ginsberg, “Song” 1953
D’ailleurs, c’est toujours les autres qui meurent.
(After all, it’s always other people who die.)
Epitaph Marcel Duchamp wrote for his own tombstone