Take drugs. Law abiding citizens are not for us. Enjoy all kinds of mystical stimuli. We have excluded the word addiction from our vocabulary. “-Good, no?” Take drugs but refuse the idea of user. User directed networks, quite embarrassing. Instead take drugs. I like alternative movies, indie films, French movies, even. But alternative cinemas, movie theatres, is to say the least a bit comme si comme sa. They smoke pot those people and some have colorful tattoos on one arm. Not such a good idea. Take drugs. You would obviously never take drugs at a party or whilst clubbing. Take drugs on Tuesdays, around two in the afternoon. That’s a good moment, and preferably alone. One should keep away from taking drugs with close friends of the same sex, and never with persons to which one have whatever amorous relation. Sex on cocaine is really overrated. Avoid that.
Dance – – dance a lot, but don’t become a user. Enjoy all kinds of movements – up and down, even side to side – but reject any temptation of becoming a dancer, and even worse a choreographer. You “are” not a choreographer. Choreography is something one does, not something that defines one’s being. You know it already, but this cannot be repeated enough many times, it’s a profession, a job, work, trade, and it is not a calling. You don’t have a gift, you are not addicted! Madonna was right all the time, choreography is like love, it’s something we do. The moment it touches upon something else – obsession – it all goes down the drain. Obviously, somebody that would consider that love is something special, not just an activity, or choreography a calling, would be both a worthless lover and choreographer. Why, well if it’s not entirely in my own power but actually choreography, on some transcendental basis that makes choreography, I can but confirm choreography. I want a lover that decides, not one that is addicted, not a user. I want me lover to take me on Tuesday around fourteen hundred hours, not after the party, half drunk and not completely decided, but you know…
Passionate. When somebody is baptized passionate, “such a passionate person” you know it’s time to disappear. We don’t want passionate, that’s like worse than calling. We want reason, labor, activity, style, superficiality, sex, darkness, carnival and putrefaction but, by God, not passion. Passionate is self-promotion and conservative. At the end of the day it’s simply narrow-minded since it prefers quantity in front of quality. People that are passionate about dance utter things like, maybe it wasn’t a masterpiece but at least they are doing something. That’s very bad, very very bad. At least- is never good. Tell people to stop, me too – dance should better die, be terminated for good than “at least” be doing something. Fuck passion, let’s go to work. Quality is also fucked up, but that’s another story. Stop your disgusting desire for dialectics. We can think without it!
Passion is not enough. Passion is enthusiastic and forgiving. Passion is like alternative cinemas. Passionate individuals say that they organize things laterally, they give workshops were you feel stuff but only what you are supposed to. Vera Mantero is passionate, and she improvises. Passionate people take an interest in opening up, – Oh, I was close to vomiting right now – opening up the body, exploring its limits and depths. But opening up is always in style, it always defends the body vis-a-vis a state of barbarism. They worship the body as a possibility for a deeper experience, for something not civilized, for something that language can not grasp. Jezuz, those are the people that will betray the revolution. Abolish them, send them to France – oh my they already live there.
I prefer poetry. Poetry is really good. I like poetry because it is excessively and only created. There is no deeper experience in poetry. It’s just language straight up. Poetry is not passionate, but constructed. It’s precise and not about breathing. When somebody starts to talk about poetry in respect of rhythm, change the subject. We like poetry because it is inorganic, superficial, non-human. We hate passion because it wants us all well, we denounce passions because it strives for oneness. We love poetry because it is violent and aggressive. We do poetry because it divides, differentiates and breaches.
Passion is not enough it’s passive and reactive. We totally don’t “just do it” – that’s like Beckett – gööööööö. We do things, we do things, we do things, we do things, because we refuse to stick to what we know. We are pretending to be fanatics, but what we do is poetry, not music – no no no we make sounds. We don’t organize them, we just make sounds, poetry, we make ourselves non-human. We do things, we do things, we do things like Egyptians – hieroglyphs – poetry made of strong entities and weak weak weak connection. Connections so weak they can only be made, only manufactured, only artificial. Connections so vague, sounds so superficial, poetry so hollow, we become inorganic. That’s what we do. We are not passionate, no chance, but we like what we do. Today.