inter-thought

Moments forgotten, a documentation of all things passed through my mind in hopes of a profound interesting thought? To pass beyond the physical now and to really engage. How does one feel, not in his body but as a part. We are all being buried alive, quickly and seemingly slowly. So many distractions. Bright lights like sharp laser beams coming through my eyes piercing my brain. A cold species of metals is a parasite that lives upon us. Slowly it works its way into our everyday, in our hands, in our ears, in our mouths, under our skin, soon in our brain. They sterilise us and give us cancer. We become more inert than we already are. Are our brains trying to escape the physicality of the body? The brain is an organism more powerful than any other force. It alone controls the entire body physically, psychologically, sub-consciously and we still do not understand it entirely. Even after death it continues to operate for 37 hours. Are we separate from it or is it who we think of as “me”. That moment of where did I put my keys and you stand in the middle of the room and your head moves unconsciously to a particular spot as you gaze blankly. Around and around the room you looked, but there they are as your eyes focus. As though your subconscious knew all along.

The internet is one of the most cerebral activities. Anything your mind ever wonders, instantly satisfied with many sources, images, videos, and a multitude of opinions. Learn anything, be an expert at everything, but again our bodies are forgotten and inertia kicks in like rigor mortis. Especially with a taste of western globalisation in everybody’s mouths. A life style of quick, easy, fast, in my car, there and back with as little effort as possible upon the physical body. Meanwhile the media has a frenzy documenting the illnesses of the culture it perpetuates. A viscous cycle of distractions. One is unable to write anything anymore, unless the writing its self is in the cycle and provides a distraction. People want to be distracted. They need it, the World wishes to be decieved, so it shall be.

Mundus vult decipi, otherwise fear would overcome. The social climate of today is an elaborate patchwork of neurosisneuroses. And this is the attribute of a society where everyone is forced to compete in a multitude of levels. It created the cycle and allows it to grow bigger and bigger, there are no limits. The fear is diminished by a forced acceptance and the forced acceptance is compensated for by consumption. Allowing the person to feel that they gained and that they need to gain more. And the media is 100% responsible for this and its reinforcement, so much so that it provides a selection of reinforcement like a box of sweets. Are you this sweet or that one, whichever one, it’s all the same. And this accounts for the majority of neurosis. The other stems from this being the most claustrophobic society ever. Everyone in their cars, boats, airplanes, the inescapable and relentless advertising. We can not move freely anywhere. Everything is owned and yet nothing truly is. When all of this construction falls and human beings are stripped of these puerile and infantile excesses their money will mean nothing. Its absurdity will be revealed as well as the overall problem. It is unfortunate that we have played this game too long to change it now and the few that try are just pushed to the side by the majority. It would take millions to behave radically and none, at no fault of their own are willing to sacrifice the comfort or potentially the survival of those that they love.

On the other side there is the self. An absolute reason for being, may not to be to change the world and who is one to do so. But they have, and I’m not happy in what they have created. So, I write and make things as an artist only to have them criticise in the light of capital and all of the above. What is there to receive pleasure from, if I identify with few and enjoy only a few of the things left. The land is going, the boundaries put high and I’m forced to be put in a limited function. Where am I to find hope and inspiration except in my discontent?