Blessed spring. Everyone is amazed as if it were a metaphysical tale. I imagine being away from the city is the closest thing to it. It's just water, a soothing sound. A seduction of nature incomprehensible for someone, I don't know who, definitely someone. As a comparison: yes, I imagine nature is better than the garbage and poop-filled alley of a diarrheic hobo; better than the disgusting city noises and claustrophobic traffic.
Blessed psychosis. Everyone despairs of the narrative they bought, they strove to accept the collective dementia. The signifier narcissism that ignores and immolates itself within the overpopulation:
the individualistic discourse - utopia fantasy.
Blessed youth. Accumulated dementia. The repressed aprioristic desire for eternal youth and contempt for the imminent putrefaction of the Self, decadent image of dignity behind scalpels, Botox, silicone. Transhuman prostitution. An eternal desire for ephemeral beauty in the immaculate body that becomes the paradox of experience, the image of Faust degraded on the big screen by vigorous actors and actresses without the sophistication of the eternal entity.
Blessed mediocrity, stupidity, apathy and intellectual decadence. The everyday environment. Life in the existential void, day after day behind a stoicism with the pseudonym of indifference. Existential catatonics working on “something” and for “someone” without an I that can be satisfied. A hypocrite of tedtalk tells you that <>, the fallacy par excellence of self-help books and motivational talks <>, attitude and a tough ass to stand the lines and signatures to overcome the Kafkaesque nightmare and record all the movements of your private life and take a little longer in your professional one.
Blessed paradoxes and blessed meaninglessness and blessed discussions of the absurd and blessed stupidity and blessed life and blessed pessimism but blessed optimism and blessed ignorance but blessed knowledge and blessed school and preschool fascism, blessed broad picture that sees life as meaninglessness, a surreal or even hyperreal scenario, the believer ascribes it to the metaphysical and the skeptic to the meta-metaphysical. In the maelstrom of paradoxes, blessed be boredom and comfort zones and in the counterproductive boredom blessed be spontaneity and improvisation. In the day to day blessed be the routine but may fantasy be praised with the majority and in the rottenness of alcoholism or smoking may the eternal return to the same shit of yesterday be longed for.
Photographers: Michelle Owen
