Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them – Some popular saying
We smell, we hear, we see, we speak, we fuck; we: sniffles, we: earwax, we: tears, we: spits, we: pee and cum and shit. From senses to actions to residues. That’s life.
Our bodies have nine holes connecting in and out, translating emotions into articulated sounds, transforming frustration into tears, turning desires into fluids. Part of our human nature consists in these exchanges between thoughts, feelings and fears, and tears, turds and spittle. The rest is time, time constituting “our lives.”
As we have bodies, we have tears, turds and spittle. But we also have a soul, so there are emotions, frustrations and desires. We are the space in between both, connected thru our nine holes. We are not only corrupting matter, we are not disembodied souls. We are no ghosts.
We are always scared of all those things: ghosts, specters, bats and darkness, cause ghosts, specters, bats and darkness are, when we are alone, heavily associated to the night. And night, we all know it, is a metaphor of death. We Are Dying, We Are Dying Right Now. We Are Dying Every Second We Remain Alive. And there’s nothing to do about it. Except resist, get distracted and try to forget.
We resist all the time, like a plague close to disappear. Like pigeons, nibbling whatever the floor has to offer, crapping on everything else, nesting wherever and singing forever all this stupid– turning–sinister anthems whether is noon or deep in the night.
Resistance is defined as “the refusal to accept or comply with something; the attempt to prevent something by action or argument.” That’s why we said life is resistance, preventing death and opposing that Heideggerean notion of “being toward death” to, better, embrace Émmanuel Lévinas’ conception of “being against death.” We argumentally stand for life, and our arguments generate actions to extend our presence in time.
Life is will. Even when we try to forget about our own live. When we feel tired and overwhelmed, when we are only weary and disgusted. When we decide to stop the world inside ourselves by turning on the screen and watch The Soup, when we try to resolve a sudoku, when we fill the white squares of a crossword, when we try to complete this Second World War bomber model, when we cook that sophisticated casserole de lapin à la moutarde, we are only desperately trying to forget about the fact that we are still alive, to forget about the heavy structures and the too many drawers, crates, and caskets that conform the living forms we are.
We have pastimes to cope with our life until it’s over.
And then is the night. And it’s wonderful.
Among so many pastimes in the world, we presume you have this one of going to art shows. So we immensely encourage you to attend this beautiful one by Delia Pérez Salinas. We have no words enough to recommend you this beautiful project, created and crafted for the site. Please join us to past some time together, to forget that we forgot that we are all going to die after a life plenty of beautiful images and warm moments.
Please don’t bring flowers.
Yours, Bruce Wayne