Tired of Life,
Tired of Toast with Butter

Any Englishman knows that this must be true. But then again, who can trust a country that votes conservative when it implements social-pain-inflicting policies. I mean, they are masochists.

To be fair we tend to put blocks into discourse a bit too much. No room for experimentation. I have learnt with time-feeling, that a stroke can equate a Ulysses worth of pages (probably not the best example). But maybe you think the modern agenda was for autonomy, and yet you are chained to your appliances, or say, machines. But I would like to be less LeCorbusian annoying and be a bit more grounded. 

I have been thinking in morals lately, a lot. I have been thinking about sexuality. About attraction and the so called sexual tension. I have been thinking of the pornification of the internet, the hooking up applications and the alienating force of contemporary gadgets. 

The human mind has learnt. And I think no one can contest that. There is a misconception about knowledge, and thought. Everyone thinks that they are both good things, that they are empowering tools, of-the-advanced mind. To learn is to accumulate processed thought. Knowledge is accumulated learning experiences. Those who built upon experience and knowledge can therefore, produce knowledge and thus learn. Dogmatism is a result of adopting a capitalist attitude towards knowledge. That of accumulation alienated from its surrounding conditions. To think straight, without dogma, is complicated. If then you throw social norms, constrains, etc. you have reached peak moment. To think straight, with no obtacles is complicated, more so if this is performed socially. Not that there is a Pure state of Thought, but clarity can be a valuable commodity. Thought and morals has a tortured historical relationship, and science has kind of really performed well in many cases. But by no means we should look at science devoid of any cultural influence (Latour). It is important in this exercise we look how morality can affect our well-being, in constraining desire, hope, will and ambition for the following of social norm, as if there was A Way to Live your Life. I don't think I am hoping here for a return of Surrealism and all the talk on the subconscious. I don't hope to bring to you an esoteric text. I am only saying that life is always easier, more enjoyable, when we go about acting more as we feel, than as we would in principle. Yes I know, risky business. 

Truth is that in this Eternal Return (Nietzsche) we should play less attention to the fact that there is novelty, or surprise, but to the fact that the world has already been lived. From this perspective your fear should disappear. I am not promulgating anarchy (in the Pop sense), for we all know that because you can you should. Think of Marina Abramovic's performance in London, where she almost gets shot by one of the attendees. Then we might want to stablish some sort of social norm that grows out of an instinct of self-protection. I am not claiming a limitless attitude to life. All I am saying is not to constrain yourself in dogma. I am not hoping to become an inspirational, life-couching-type-of-blog. I have been depressive, suicidal, self-hated for a long time. 

I have also been thinking of distance, and the idea that time goes on for all. Family is not valuable because is family. Is valuable for there are some who care, they think of you. But I would like to bring Niki de Saint Phalle and her hatred to social institutions, as a counterpoint. 

Men, and by Men, I mean many men, are atrocious. Poor things they have been inflicted with the cruelties of language. For their penis has come to define their lives. What if we could cut them short! We would have a beautiful choir of androgynous charm. All of them with fear of their own faggotry. They have then, inevitably turned into hypermasculinity. And don't get me wrong, but I really do think that gyms are solitary places, for the self-excavation of deeper and deeper. This doesn't mean that there are some who feel for their figure, to the grace of our eyes. Their gestures must be complimented. By no means I would suggest that they should be copied, manufactured. There's no such thing as a Warholian factory of grace. I know, difficult to resist its aureatic power. FAGGOT! I think the term Men, ultimately means self-hatred. It is in between the air that I believe some truth can emanate. By having our eyes wide open. You might find that reality has something else to offer far away from along the lines of dogmatism, and that opening up doesn't mean surrendering to reality, or Social Realism (not sure this applies), but the fact that in the voids of the silhouettes of the landscape you might imagine a new formation of sorts. Those that bring the colors and complexities of you Being in the World, as opposed to you, on your way through some sort of (Indian) graveyard, moving through, turning, crossing...life as process as it were... 

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

"Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit"

Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)

Emotional Deficiency/The Body Political/Mobility as a Permanent Condition/Precarious Labour/Architecture as Condensed Politics/The Body as a Trespasser/The Unit as Subversion/The Intimate and the Urban

I have been in this blogspace for a while now, and my feeling is that I won't be here for long. But then again I have said That quite a few Times now, and nothing has changed. This Blog has grown in parallel to my stay in London since I moved here, and is by all means an extension to this new existence. It is also the only space//This Cloud//that has remained constant in This Stay. Paradoxically, as many might feel like, the Internet is the only Space where they have remained; where property, or solidity has remained constant or accessible. We shouldn't though, think that this is True. It is a delusion. This ephemeral permanence, is Also a Cloud of vapor surrounding us...

You might have to think a bit about This. Maybe you feel overwhelmed, and to be honest, that is the very point of the mechanisms that surround us. Whether you are interested in Saturation or not, you are in fact, Saturated. Desaturating is only a Privilege of the Economical Elite(?), which amongst Other factors, can afford to choose. Maybe your radius of action is constrained to your spaces of intimacy, and ultimately to the movements of your body, which if Tested, will find their own set of restrictions.

Contrary to the Body, there is, but there should be more, Architecture based discourse, on the consolidating and solidifying effects of Architecture on the establishing of relationships between the inhabiting bodies, their geographies, and their (social) interactions. Meaning, Architecture is the trunk bound to a Territory, which consciously or unconsciously radiates a set of values. Being exposed to this radiation transforms our bodies, those that with Time think of Background as Environment, and unnecessarily then as Nature. Any claim to Power is usually a claim to Nature, since it is easily justified. Our bodies are born, but unlike Nature, Architecture is Constructed. Meaning "chief"-"mason".

If a political geography is to be drawn by social consensus, we need to reconsider the social. A word that I find difficult to deal with. And that I need a better understanding Of. Because we are wary, we would like to know the nature of this consensus, and it is for sure, better to analyse. If politics lack a social base, then they are despotic, and most of the time they have the galvanizing effect of a Technocracy. Evolution without Philosophy. Welcome to the space of the Post-Critical. And that's because it is SO Démodé to go against. But if we'd like to stand, or to remain in Silence, Now is the time to make a Space of our own. It is by composites of Common Will that you might find the road to a hut. A hut of your own.

Finally I just want to say that as soon as you mention structure, you withdraw from emotion, an appeal to objectiveness. This I can't justify, but only assert that narrative spaces can only be constructed by setting fictions. Setting fictions about their constructing worlds requires propositions for a future, which are always problematic as soon as they become personal projections, rather than landscapes of the Multitude. For this reason I prefer to remain in this plain of Depth...Fading blue, green, and a Stroke of Orange where it meets the ground. Where dreams lift off to unpredictable heights. Wow, cheese.