Also, I have been highly trained
in this Word, the word as the rule of the world. I have constructed my whole
being around the Word, immersed and consummated by it, believed in its power.
At the end of my last semester in Amsterdam I have found myself to be
completely textualized, and there was a book cover on both sides of me,
pressing me, closing me to stay in, to live inside the frame that I made, that
my education made, or that both of us made. I reached the limits of textuality –
in its critical questioning and reasoning, in its discursive battles – I found
that its tools allow me to reach the ends of discourse, where there's nothing,
just darkness and sinking, lower and lower...But, then I remembered that I had
some moments of happiness –happiness, that is considered to be 'naive', and
that is claimed to be the invention of the self-help books, so scorned by the
Great critics, the Great critical inquiry, so scorned by me !
There is
something extremely easy in sarcasm and irony, when you once get a hold of it –
and you can stay in their company forever – and this critical inquiry loves
them because they are her children, her naughty, intelligent children that
tease and kick everyone around them. There is something infinitely sad about
sarcasm and irony, if you drag them around constantly. They, like these small
devils, prick and sting everyone around you, and even if you see yourself as
almighty and strong, you are still divided from everyone else, alone and
wondering
at night, when the little brats sleeping, you are lying in your bed, and the
night is so fragrant and fresh, and the moon is just outside your window, you
hug your pillow and cry...not out of sadness, but just for this moment of beauty, and the kids are asleep and no one will see, it's just you and the world, not a word is said.
Primjedbe
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