Contemplating the contemplated
by Parallax· from Mediums & Messages
Image against image. Force is given, force is taken. Separated, represented. Choice abandoned. More of the same. Passion has been usurped. Rendered useless, a means to an end. Of consumption. Desire is dictated. Separate from my own. Something outside - reified. Disarmed at all costs - unreal. To gain assurance, to continue to function. Maintain existence. Producing a life that's not worth living. Each day I dread the disposable. Each day I am replaceable. I've lost all sense of myself in this dispassionate quest for placement. This poverty of experience is requisite for the wealth of objects. Movement is prevented while each day is wasted. Contemplating the contemplated. These days are coated in the insipid. To waste time is to waste everything. This overabundance, the poverty of experience. Choice is irrelevant, a redundant gesture. Movement is prevented. I count the passing of days in dollars represented as desire. Alienated from the creative. To waste time is to waste everything. Reducing days to dollars. In the name of survival I've become an object of trade. I have lost all sense of myself. Image against image. Force is taken, force is given. Separated, represented. Choice abandoned. More of the same. This banal ritual, a predetermined outcome, where passion is disarmed, abandoned as fuel for this cycle of survival.
From the booklet:
Feeling like there is no way out of wasting your life away is depressing.