Campo obligatorio; no debe dejarse en blanco.

I feel like Marx sometimes is more of a Poet, than a theorist. You might treat these two interchangeably. But if this is true, it might also be true that I am dead, and if not by default, I am in a process of decomposition.

Maybe this is drama for you. Keep walking then.

If you rather stay, I wanted to talk about Self-estrangement. I find this concept quite beautiful, and in conjunction with the power of pictorialism and mass media, a powerful concept to define current states of despair. Think of it. If you don't you are not in this category.

I always think of this space as a space of reflection, and the reason it has not been updated lately, is because I have been feeling distant from my self. And loneliness is a powerful contractor; it bring things closer and in their reactions you start to uncover yourself.

I also wanted to talk about sexual frustration, and the idea that a herculean figure will come to our rescue. But the truth is the wind is blowing harsh, there is no response. Only famine. And if the black is truly black, the veneer won't protect you from disaster. You might want to check your teeth.

Frustration and self-estrangement are bed friends, but they don't really talk to each other. Its a very modern condition, you know? It's the phenomenological subject, turned into commodity, who no longer in the world as it is, lives and feels the world through its portrayal. Some sort of projected fantasy, of sexual frustration in a continuum. Which sounds like vacuum, and yet it needs no external connection.

Thinking that being alienated from yourself can produce severe harm on your hard drive is problematic. I have yet to dive into theories of authenticity, but I can sense that this previous instance relies on the existence of an ideal self, a "real", proper or moral self, as if there was no background work, as if work in progress was the realm of the one artist. And in this I can't believe, likewise you can't, unless you wish to.

Being able, quite rightly said previously somewhere on the webs, doesn't mean you should to. Tapping into reality suddenly turns into actually having the shit on top of you. This relaying on the image is disproportionate, and surely somehow damaging. Design Today as image-making is perfect in enabling the status quo to carry on, and to allow stupid concepts like Sustainability to emerge, and to even, become institutionalised. By this I mean, please drown me.

In the walks of life you either walk right or left, or you decide to put a mask on your face, aka American Reflexxx. In this instance you have let yourself to contingency, and you can expect to face the consequences. Not of those gallery contained happenings of say the Viennese Actionism, or candid, haute couture kind of Klein, rubbing the lust away. Your diagnosis then is French Lust. Very sort of Lusty Fraternité.

I must confess lastly that the project of the blurred and blurring working class can't be a totalising discourse that leaves the readers alienated. I think if there is an audience, there is a set of latent agencies that can become part of the conversation. These short-cut concepts make journalism a bit of shameful thingy to bear in your CV. I would argue for a more liberated form of journalism. Lets have a bit of structural innovation in terms of its financing and distribution.

But if you rather have some serious arguments pulled of here, you are in the wrong place. I am on a personal detour, and there is no room for contextualising, framing, notes, breaks, titles or references. Moving beyond a partisan politics is key, but without forgetting the idea of the constituency.

Testing means not revealing, as Information does not equate Knowledge (this I copied from someone I CAN'T REMEMBER). But being brutally honest maybe is not the best thing to do. Sometimes masquerades of moral ideals can turn your narratives around. Sad becomes Happy, or Good suddenly becomes Bad, or even better Bad becomes Contingency! I don't know I think I am running in circles here. (Nike Freerun Perect fit 2.0)

Last but not long, I need to conclude with the idea of Projection. I find this fascinating. Projection always equates elongation, not phallic, but rather a physiological combo. Say you think you will harm your loved one by hiding truth he might find to be brutally honest. Brutality then it becomes a form of perception, rather than of mediated reality. Recently I read in Tinybuddha (sorry for my questionable sources) that prejudice is more telling of your own mindworkings than of the said person. And I find this so revealing, and totally tantalising. In this respect our veils, curtains or furnishing can narrativise your whole life. Flat-pack-it and put it in the shelf in a brochure titled Your Life.

This means that your frustration with the World or other people might be a Frustration you have with yourself, Within. This is no IKEA shopping, is a whole new world of fuckedom. This means reworking the layout of your internal organs.


Honesty is a two sided coin; the face-your own- is always at odds with the reverse, and in the contingent future the forces at play come into full force generating an outcome. And I mean this for the sake of continuing writing. If you fail to see that discourse, as is culture, or any other, is prefab. by us, you fail to see that all in all the story is (not) confined to our own means. Focusing on these will give you some sort of meaning, the answer is not in the icing. Maybe the taste, if any. Sadly when you realise this flavour might be self-inflicted, you flip the coin, hope for a change. Change is good, and throwing yourself to it can be gratifying. It is in those desert moments when dunes remain, silently you can watch them move. If the stay it means they are there for you, the others have been blown by air, and therefore laid out the paths of flatness. (Flatland for the avid reader here)

So to conclude my conclusion, I would like to state that inflection can be revealing, and being honest about our own dishonesties to others can be not only self-revealing but also Healing at the top of the gentlest of dunes. With no further delay a big XOXO for the enduring reader. C'ya.xx