nosfin

[nosfin]

Death makes her presence known by ticking her foot on my apartment’s ceiling. Time’s little, plein de devoirs though. However, I crave the adolescence I never lived, the primary years of adulthood I never tasted, the love that never leaned on my flesh. The wolves of irrelevancy have started licking my form. The dogme d’état d’urgence permanent has taught me: usually the choice is between what’s bad and what’s worse than that. One month for eight battles or one year lost. Again. It’s hard when you have nothing to wait for but another race. It’s tricky when the deeply awaited pause is limited to a spiral of a nature that’s addicted to its reproduction. I profess to be an intellectual, I’m really a dumb uninterested figure, harping on his comfortable schemes of concealing a truth so fundamental that’s not even mine. As if anybody will ever read, care.

[nosfin]

Η τελική απογοήτευση όταν• εκείνο το πράγμα που έπλασες, για να σκελίσεις την απόλυτη απομάγευση• αποδειχτεί μαγική εικόνα. Η άφταστη υπόσχεση, διηνεκώς στα πόδια σου, μα και τόσο μακριά. Δεν αγοράζεται, δεν καταχτιέται, απλώς νιώθεται ως οπή ερεβώδης. Νόσφιν τελείς ως παρτιζάνος άστρατος, αναμένοντας. Μεθ’υποκρούσεων θερμών το εκδραματισμένο τέλος.

[nosfin]

Context

The narrow corridor of my remainder. However, I crave the windows of the world. Nous sommes en guerre. Pacta sunt servanda, rebus sic standibus. Bίον ἀθάνατον σπεῦδε, τὰν δ᾽ ἔμπρακτον ἄντλει μαχανάν. 

The rain of specialité, democracy excluded, antithesis excluded, truth forbidden. 

It’s the countdown of a life wasted. 15 toasts for a quarter.

[nosfin]

Counting down to a quarter of a century. A fraction of infinity, a nothingness indeed. I walked the town yesterday. In circles, around my point of birth. Dying for a glimpse to make me alive. Got the glimpses, but in the form of the arts of perspective. Little rivers did fall, nobody cared. Today, I wanna try again. However, I’m tired living˙ in vain. Too lonely to fail.

[nosfin]

«You have to take all your chips and put them on double six and watch as every eye goes to you and then to those red dice doing their wild dance and freezing time before finding the cruel green felt.»

« [..] it goes fast, real fast, and if you're not careful it’s too late.»

I had to be festive, but I’m being me.

[nosfin]

Οι γαλλισμοί, η φυγή στην τέχνη. Αισθητικοποίηση της μιζέριας. Εμπαιγμός της συντριβής μου, όταν καρφώνομαι στα συναπτόμενα χέρια, τις παλλόμενες φιγούρες που ακκίζονται μπροστά στο ρημαγμένο από τους περιπάτους σαρκίο μου. Αλλά, ο περίπατος είναι η τέχνη του flâneur και η μοναξιά το τίμημα της τελειότητας. Ένα τέταρτο αιώνας και ένας φόβος αιώνιος. Όταν ακούσω κάτι πιο οικείο, αυτά εκβάλλουν. Altrement dit, Christmas mood.

[nosfin]

«Pourquoi a-t-on tant lutté pour la liberté? Parce qu’elle est comme le pain, existentielle»

Mais que faisons-nous lorsque cette lutte est limitée au équilibrage?

[nosfin]

A simplistic scheme: the makings of an obsession untruthful enough to become amoureuse, lethal enough to remind him of that circle vicieux. And of the mere fact that he’s just dizzy, because le grand «kindynos» a commencé. 

VERT-IGO

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A sophomoric exodus through paraître, the externalized aesthetics.

Whoùs that. Les mains d'un discours minéral.

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"I didn't even know I didn't like her". C'est fini.

My loneliness is a continuum of a love that recognizes your form and nothing else. This has been the longest premise of a joker's joke. If art is concealing, I've failed.

[nosfin]

Ain't talking, just walking. At night. I know the reason why such a thing might become again. Against the law. Cause, its a lonesome multiplayer mode of life. No capacity, just a perspective. The simplistic one, the truest of all. One might remember that all share the same lethal fortune. The unpleasant warmth of their final mixing proves. Estre indigent was always a travesty. A resonated silence of the utter realisation. The sound of a persistent objector of belonging. That’s still the answer. La chanson du fou: the ratio of flâneur-ing as a criminal act.

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My life is constantly in defense of a veto for its dedramatization. Cause it knows. Once the désenchantement is done, you just wait for the finale. Meanwhile "ain't nobody wants to reach you honey"...

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My loneliness is a continuum of a love that recognizes your form and nothing else. This has been the longest premise of a joker's joke. If art is concealing, I've failed.

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The birth of an instict. That croissance, that rondeur. Nipcracking all day, as if I can afford it. The more I learn about it, the less interested I become. Is this a german story or not?

[nosfin]

Il faut savoir quitter la table

Lorsque l'amour est desservi

Sans s'accrocher l'air pitoyable

Mais partir sans faire de bruit

[nosfin]

Melisma is a word derived from honey. Honeymoon or an analysis on patriarchy. Che Guevara holds the sword of Damocles. Above a head once loved by me. Now hated. What's going on?

[nosfin]

Solus et ipsus, nosfin virium, out of town. Exodus de votre collectivité.