I’m totally excited about tonight and Lynda’s other moments. It was just soooo amayyyyying!
I get that you’re America, but literally the biggest, international music competition in the world and most of you have no idea what it is? I get that it’s trashy, but that is just some isolationist bubble shit right there.
Will talking about musics in the plural and flaunting an eclectic ecumenicism solve the problem? It seems, on the contrary, that this will merely conjure it away-as do certain devotees of an advanced liberal society. All those musics are good, all those musics are nice. Ah! Pluralism! There’s nothing like it for curing incomprehension […] I certainly am not going to preach in favor of an ecumenicism of musics, which seems to me nothing but a supermarket aesthetic, a demagogy that dare not speak its name and decks itself with good intentions the better to camouflage the wretchedness of its compromise.
—Pierre Boulez, “Contemporary Music and the Public”, Perspectives of New Music, Vol. 24, No. 1 (Autumn-Winter, 1985) 8-12.
There is a very popular opinion that choosing life is inherently superior to choosing death. This belief that life is inherently preferable to death is one of the most wide spread superstitions. This bias constitutes one of the most obstinate mythologies of the human species.This prejudice against death, however, is a kind of xenophobia. Discrimination against death is simply assumed good and right.
Absolutist faith in life is commonly a result of the unthinking conviction that existence or survival, along with an irrational fear of death, is “good.” This unreasoned conviction in the rightness of life over death is like a god or a mass delusion. Life is the “noble lie”; the common secular-religion of the West. For the conventional Westerner, the obvious leap of faith to make here is that one’s “self” and its preservation constitute the first measure of rationality.
Yet if one begins reasoning with the unquestioned premise that life is good, or that one’s own life or any life is justified, this is very different from bringing that premise itself to be questioned rationally. Anyone who has ever contemplated his or her own mortality might question the ultimate sanity of the premise of self-preservation. Even if it is possible to live forever, moreover, this makes not an iota of difference as to the question of the value of existence.
‘Something, I have to tell you something… I’ve got to tell you this… I promised myself to tell’ ? Come the fuck on Lithuania!
I still hate Belgium’s entry. It’s an annoying song and Roberto’s voice is whiney. Ireland’s is standard electro dance club fare. Montenegro and Belarus were utter trolls. Estonia’s was, like Israel’s will be, pretty but dull.
Get the fuck out Romania. Norway’s entry is just too busy. I really like Malta’s entry.
Proust’s entire work is constructed in this manner: successive loves, jealousies, periods of sleep, etc., detach themselves so fully from the characters that they themselves become infinitely changing characters, individuations without identity, Jealousy I, Jealousy II, Jealousy III…
—Gilles Deleuze, ‘Boulez, Proust and Time: “Occupying without counting”’, Angelaki, 3:2, 70.
Vampire Weekend- Finger Back
The tennis coach today said since I’ve shown so much improvement I should sign up for tennis again next semester so I told her I was thinking actually about taking crocheting. She turned to me deadpan and said, ‘You’re kidding’.
My goal to compliment a guy every time I go outside:
Some obviously straight (his deep voice, shorts/tshirt combo, and overall demeanor gave it away) blond guy who had just got off his phone and was walking up the steps to the library. I called out, ‘Hey guy!’. He turned. I said, ‘You have a nice face!’ He stared confused and said ‘What?’ I repeated, ‘You have a nice face!’ He continued staring at me like wtf, until he began to crack a smile and said, ‘Thank you!’ Everybody loves a compliment!
Everything I’ve eaten today:
Raw Almonds, Greek Yogurt, Coffee, Water, Chicken Caesar Salad, Whole Grain Muffin, Apple Slices
Everything I wanted to eat today:
A Bacon Cheeseburger, Pizza, Ice Cream
Maupassant often lunched at the restaurant in the tower, though he didn’t care much for the food: It’s the only place in Paris, he used to say, where I don’t have to see it.
—Roland Barthes, The Eiffel Tower: And Other Mythologies (University of Californis Press, 1997) 3.
Diagonales/: Les fans des films de Xavier Dolan devraient être renvoyés vers des camps de reéducation
Les fans des films de Xavier Dolan devraient être renvoyés vers des camps de reéducation. Vraiment, j’attends cet hiver, qu’il soit cruellement froid. Ils devraient être renvoyés d’abord parce que PERSONNE ne peut aimer ce type d’exercices impossibles de vanité qui sont le seul fil conducteur de…
Mais ça c’est exactement l’objet : pour faire le cinéma il faut -être un perverti qui jouit-. Le cinéma, comme nous dit Zizek, est précisément l’art pervers, ça veut dire, le cinéma est celui qui nous dit cela ce qui est notre désir, comme nous devrions désirer.
Mais je dirai que le clip d’Indochine était horrible. Il m’a enseigné que toutes les charges ne sont pas une croix. Dolan a devenu moins irrésitible depuis J’ai tué ma mère.
When Bruce Fink suggests as a translation of Lacan’s ‘mot, c’est motus’, ‘mum’s the word’ this is entirely perspicacious (Seminar XX, 79). Mum as the British colloquial for mother as we know from Lacan’s early work it is the mother who introduces the infant (etymologically ‘not speaking’, he who does not speak) to the order of the signifer, who creates a being who inhabits language. The dialectical turn however, a proof of the fact language knows more about us than we do, is lodged in the fact mum is here meant in the sense of the injunction ‘keep mum’, remain silent. The double bind of the injunction.