passionate about misery

message me if you are passionate about misery and a sophisticated life but don’t try to show me any of yr anatomy.

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the art of the deal

sex is something i’ve never been entirely comfortable with and capitalism is the same, but we participate because no one ever gave us a choice. It wasn’t the best sex ever but at least I got the impression she didn’t hate me. Money is always made by someone, stolen from someone else, “earned”.

underclass

enemies disguised as peers and lovers

and they want to bring you down

there are drug dealers spinning plates

while the social circle is torn to bits

by centrifugal force, its so very sad

I wish I could save the whole underclass

 

rat park is a distant dream

we live in a cage instead

 

but dammit I approached the work with an intellectual praxis

where he relied entirely on aesthetic judgements and intuition

 

it was all

ultimately

meaningless

fucksake

spectacle

we have created a society so alienating

so packed with imagery and nonsense

that the population cannot see black from white

morphed around by the spectral hands of capital

all joy, contemplation and rage removed

until we are exhausted and passive, compliant

its fucked, one day we’re just gonna lose our minds

sudden realisations and epiphanous outpourings

or simply

atrophy

art #3

art creates illusory narratives, content, concepts, worlds

but they always remain illusory because the business

of making them concrete is not in art’s remit

now art fractures reality and reality fractures art