broach the topic by connecting something - your lunch, Tuesday, the weather - to deconstructionism. bring up foucault and derrida in the same sentence. say "there is no center". compare the setting you are immersed in to a simulacrum, and say "baudrillard was more right than he knew" with a tragic note in your voice. repeat every two days or so.
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I had forgotten what psychic overload cities are. was anyone meant to live in them? I don't understand. in the train station I was so exhausted from just being around people that I rudely turned down someone's request to use my phone - I just thought about what a mental investment it was to make a connection to another human being, lend them the phone, wonder if they're going to rack up some kind of charge on it, get it back, think about whether this person's hands were clean when using the buttons, etc etc etc. this is sad.
art museums are also another kind of overload, but they get ideas moving, although many are useless. I am still of the opinion that though there is an infinity of art that could be made, some of it shouldn't. still on the fence about these two-color block prints by abstract painters from the fifties. is this a rejection of the complexity of modernity? I found myself fixating on the explanatory notes beside the paintings - giving you a key concept to latch onto, for example, when confronted with a big canvas full of splotches you look helplessly at the plate and read "religion" and go AH, and only then do you begin to interpret.
if it doesn't speak to you, it doesn't speak to you.
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listen to this interview with charlie kaufman from wired magazine - it's unedited, and in between charlie's halting sentences about the nature of art and commercialism in film and mortality you can hear him ask the waiter for more ketchup.
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A Day in the Life
Today didn't eat lunch because it was snowing, icy and was running late because of all the graduate work required of us graduate level students who read and write and think so much so instead of lunch devouring an anthology of Narratology and read through Derrida and de Man and demanded there'd be some better way of saying what he was saying so bored if instantaneously skipped back to Baudrillard , having forgotten Foucault already as was suggested and realized everything was pointless and felt very imploded. So felt as though needed to pace back and forth in the atrium inside Jesus and saw twenty-nine undergraduates talking on cell phones while seven others texted or video-texted others who would likewise, while others photographed the event which automatically updated to facebook for instant nostalgia while listening to Dimitri Martin and humming, almost collectively, the Notre Dame "Victory March" which echoed electronically from the loudspeakers shaped like Leprechauns in a Muzak version that never before noticed all videotaped by cameras which filmed next week's commercial for the brand image endorsed, by God . And then thought to myself, "Baudrillard was right" . Immediately wondered how Derrida would respond to this assertion, but then remembered that in postmodern "the center cannot hold" .
trying to figure out if some kind of spambot generated this text or if it was a human being.
I like "the atrium inside jesus".
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