Honey Trees.

“The absurd man will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions … and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the “divine irresponsibility” of the condemned man.”

 ― Jean-Paul Sartre

 In Soho, NYC, a man created 3D artworks out of twisting wire. I asked him to create a favourite phrase of mine.

Is this about you?

You make me comfortable, and when we share worlds and conversations, I am comfortable, more than comfortable, I am dulled, and for that the blame is not on you but I cannot continue this hibernation in circling mental exercise and place ignorance on the contradictions we sport as we complain about them on others. Yet you know I'm not one who finds satisfiction in such calmness, I hunger for chaos, chase exposure and don't mind a collapse here and there. So let me, and let me tell you; break yourself for me, but mostly for you. Change is but a label behind which we create corners of refuge. It is not negative, it means no harm, it carries us onwards. Remember that we are water, and change is our current. You cannot write me down for ink runs with the touch of me, trust that I am content and you can be too. In dread, do not let the subject be lost in confusion. Be open, be free, discard the layers with which you have wrapped yourself in, immersion will not take charge but deem you your own master, and with that power, you will finally understand what you are doing and for who you are doing these things for. 

González-Torres.

This was one of my favourite installations from the MoMA. The silver carpet is made of hard candies, and the security guard had the job of encouraging all visitors to take as many pieces as they wished. We sucked on candies and listened. This artwork is dedicated to the artist's lover who died of AIDS in 1991. Everybody is taking some, sharing, infecting, killing. Terrifying, isn't it?

Lapse.

Who are you, who and what are you supposed to be? Why I cannot hold onto you I know, but why must we be two bodies and not one? What should I be feeling, how does everybody feel, am I feeling what they feel, am I feeling what you feel? Have I escaped your memory? Why have you almost escaped mine? I thought this was precious; a singular, unmoving importance but it appears the same as all things. You appear just like any other, yet I did not think so. Now, empowered yet dulled I'm run by confusion. Where do I stand now? Which seat do I take, and who do I sit next to? There are no chairs, no chairs and I am sprawled, slathered, shrunk across the timber. Perhaps this is why you are of such esteem, but I am in control of you. We cannot take turns, to share the sky like moon and sun; you would blind me. Oh, how I dreamed greater. I now lust to conquer and reign, to be and be more but how should I? That was me, and this is me, halfway there is a division and I must expunge it but what answer am I recovering, to what and whom am I bidding goodbye? Laughter, ha! I hear it too, because I know the answer I agree to. But does that mean I lose all of them? Do I mind? Perhaps not. Have I run again? Leapt without so much as a clue? I clench a faint apology at my throat because I am no longer as they knew me. They feel this arctic heat, this stranger in my expression but I cannot explain to them. I am suffering them and I wished otherwise but my movement takes me and I have no words appropriate. Take what you had and what you approve of me and leave me, leave!

Delight.

"The worst thing is not that the world is unfree, but that people have unlearned their liberty."
 
Milan Kundera

My Days, Mine.

Knowing you will be infinitely alone, and excel at doing so, to finally hold disregard for the strange inferiority that crushes our ability to navigate, and to thrash away plagues of insecurities that contaminate us throughout the days and evenings of our lives, is something I have claimed to be my own. A possibility realised in a constant struggle for greatness of mind; now seeking methods to distinguish and adorn my experience with appreciation not embitterment. A time to supersede pettiness but enjoy the smallest of things, a time to remain in a state of drenching hunger yet collect sums of satisfaction, a time to cast the expectations of others and to extract from them that which I love. My motive, apparent. My joy, abundant. This may be the essence that embodies my chase, the very enchantment I have been seeking. This complex conviction that devours me is  now answered with a fullness, a wonderment spirited by itself. The life I have been waiting for in recurring aspirations has landed beside me, and it is so entirely convincing and wondrous.  

April 21st.

All the rowboats - Regina Spektor.
A song about art trapped in galleries and museums = so much 'Yes!'.

Boogie!

I feel there's a need to say that if you're finally doing something relatively exciting (I'm really just referring to travelling), DON'T DEDUCT THE EXPERIENCE BY POSTING ABOUT IT ON FACEBOOK. I know it's validating and makes you seem all sociable, mildly interesting, active, cultured, etcetera etcetera, but it's such a shitty cause, distraction and time killer. I vouched to stray from facebook during my trip and besides two (guilty) 'Check in' updates, I succeeded! It also felt bloody terrific to stop using ze mobile phone during the day time and to actually experience a lack of procrastination via technology. The point is to immerse yourself in what you are experiencing, conversing and sharing the experience with others external to that experience should be kept POST-experience. I get that we hunger for efficiency, immediacy, but the constant stream of photos, statuses and check ins are so extremely excessive and unnecssary. The technological age sucks. Except for the invention of 'Just Dance 3', which I say should be readily available in any public or private environment. As amazing as my love for life right now, yep I said it, I'm all + positive and prancey and shit because 2012 is treating me like a diseased queen (because people become really nice to you when you're sick, and especially so if you're royalty).