Idea: focus on the positive. (Or don’t let the straight girls define my world. After all, it's not all that real).
Poverty is defined by one question: is there a way out?
2021, March
Have promised to endure
do not want to endure
but she is a world war in me11. This passage and much of what follows refers to a sentiment expressed by Martin Buber at the end of the epilogue to “Gog and Magog”. In the face of World War II, he writes: “There is no way to be shown in this desert night; it is to be helped to persevere with a ready soul until the morning dawns and a way becomes visible where no one suspected it.” (Own translation.)
The person I could talk to. She does not want to be seen by me, not to be recognized by me. Wants to remain in her image,
wants to stay where she is.
She doesn’t suggest anything, doesn’t try to do anything with me.
She just leaves it.
Everyone ultimately participates in the way things are. To not be alone, to not be poor.
Just like others limit their lives living vegan or training for competitions, I kind of do it socially.
It’s convient to be a certain way, have certain friends and do certain things. To have a certain general speak.
But I can’t do that.
I can’t bear it.
The worst part of my job is listening to the Germans in line while I wait.
Angela Davis: »We wish not to be included in a racist society.«
Theory further alienates me from the world.
Perhaps it makes visible an alienation that also exists without it.
Our love has no language anymore
So far, everything has come true and more.
This appeasing desire to understand something against which one does nothing, can do nothing.
If a person cannot act (they go crazy).
I have new certainty. Donn’t know exactly why, but also much because of Marta. She was an asynchronous soulmate of my life. At some point, these people come.
And if you die before then? They would have come if you had had more time. Accepting doesn’t mean things will stay that way. It means that they will come.
“Therefore, the ultimate causes of all societal changes and political upheavals are not to be found in the heads of people”
Engels
I would love to draw faces and humans.
It is sad what has become of Marx. Or, to put it another way, reading people in their original provides so much.
Everything is refined and made well by using it.
I am present with others in their coming.
Now, I am in reading, and it is enough.
And even if all being shines in the light of others, my thoughts are not with them.
I never felt a final rebellion of life in her.
Reading Hobbes. One must feel the madness tickle on the first pages.
One feels the madness tickle on the first pages of Arendt, Foucault. Philosopher, that is: the obsessed.
Movement is the being of time. That is, both understanding and my plural understanding of being must be subjected to change.
It is perhaps how I dive in and out of others; the fluctuation of my light.
[E. suffers from our relationship, withdraws. The energies darken.]
My mother did not listen to me. My father did not listen to me. People did not listen to me.
I was a child and I spoke. Source of ideas and tiny creatures. How was it dried up?
If we speak honestly, we can get hurt. What else hurt us than our honestly spoken words?
If we show ourselves in our love, in our fondness and desire, we are thing of greatest fragility.
My parents neglected me. I grew up as a cold person. I had to learn life laboriously.
Everything social shifted to the sphere of doing, to the sphere of art.
In my writing I expand what I stopped once as a child - I speak.
But how could one speak, were there no human being?
The speaking seizes the people in its prospective gaze. There they sprout.
In the prospective gaze the world begins to live. There the faces of truth wander.
No person began to believe, they could be loved. Only in their knowledge of becoming their heart beats.
First published: August, 2023.