#failed utopys

[vonklein]

Brutalist part of a block in Karlsruhe near the center. Very typical in its failed try to make use of platforms above street-level but also very classical "brut", still beautiful as monument to partly failed utopys of urbanism.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

How the bachelorettes will play the The Sims 3:

Haley:

Will spend 2 hours to create the perfect design for her sim's clothes.

Cheat code for a huge amount of money.

The richest house, the best cars, the biggest TV, etc.

Favorite expansion packs: Late night, Showtime and Island Paradise.

Goes to expensive bars and places to get interesting moodlets. Only the best and expensive thing!

Got "heartbreaker" lifetime's wish the very first in her game.

Of course, she's a popular super star! Admittedly, she constantly has to fight back her good name when her sim is publicly reviled. Oh, that popularity!

Maxed out the photographer's and serfing skill set.

Decided to try to learn a new skills in game. Her sim died in a fire the first time she tried to make macaroni and cheese.

Penny:

Another interesting thing that helps her escape from reality (besides books).

Never uses cheat codes, trying to achieve everything herself.

Favorite expansion packs: Generation and Seasons.

Creates the perfect modest newlywed couple. One of the sims is her exact copy and the other is her dream spouse.

At first was upset that her sim had many failed attempts at cooking (too close to reality). Eventually pumped the skill to the max.

Gave her sim a career in school.

Mini heart attack every time a thief or ghost showed up at her sim's house.

Goes into the build menu just to listen to music.

Created as many children as the game allowed. Happy big family!

Emily:

She spent twice as much time designing her sim's hair and clothes as her sister.

Inspired after the game, went to my sewing machine to recreate the clothes in reality.

Love all the expansion, but her favorite is Ambition. Because a career as a Stylist! Also pets, because parrot!

Her sim knows every skill in the game bit by bit.

She'll be picking up every stray animal.

Stopped doing that when one of the stray cat ate her parrot.

Was upset that unlike cats and dogs, she can't put a grave for a parrot.

Collects various gems and collects them in the Sim's house. Gems everywhere!

Abigail:

She thought it was a boring game, but when she found out you could create a sim as a ghost! Or a vampire! Or a werewolf, or a witch? She could become an adventurer? Awesome!

Favorite expansions are World Adventures and Supernatural.

Uses the occasional $1000 dollar cheat code to buy a ticket to another country.

Sim's personal life? No time for that, she has adventures waiting for her in Egypt!

Pumping skill sports to fight with the mummy.

No money for food? Time to look for breakfast in the trash cans!

Enjoys getting interesting moodlets, no matter positive or negative.

Created the sim as a witch and practiced magic during the adventure.

Making stinky potion? Absolutely yes 😈

Often saved to watch a sim die from a trap in adventures or from other things.

Leah:

She is more interested in the architecture and design of the house than the game itself.

Uses money cheats to buy the necessary items to create the perfect cottage house.

However, she does not use cheats during the game itself. She enjoys creating the perfect house on a small budget.

Favorite expansions are Seasons, University Life, and Career.

The first expansion is for fall aesthetics 🤌 the other two are for pumping up her artist and sculptor skills.

A nemesis with a neighbor who strongly resembles her ex in personality.

Often sits in the city editor (like, almost 90% of her time), redesigning other sims' homes.

Her sim visits countries just to paint beautiful landscape and buy a bottle of "juice".

Also, the gardening skill is half developed.

Her sim was eaten by a carnivorous cow flower. And she didn't even keep the design of the town! Eh, need to start all over again...

Maru:

Doesn't spend a lot of time creating a sim.

Of course they have the Inventor character, how could they not.

Favorite expansions packs are Ambition and Into the Future.

So many ideas in the game for her new inventions... A jetpack? Why not.

Fascinated by the quest to change the future into Utopia or Dystopia.

Science, invention and robot building skills are maxed out.

Used a cheat code for 1000 dollars just once to buy junk for inventions.

Made a sim Sebastian, so that at least in the game in them were good family relationships...

Synthesized food?! Now that's interesting!

Her Sims often died from burns and electrocution.

[graywyvern]

( "abstract oil painting in the style of clyfford still, purple, pink, turquoise" via nightcafe / karl kempton on fb )

Dark Mother.

"In E.M. Cioran’s “Lettre à un ami lointain” (Letter to a Faraway Friend), the first chapter in his book Histoire et utopie (History and Utopia), there is a remarkable passage about his switch from writing in Romanian to French:

'It would be the narrative of a nightmare, were I to give you a detailed account of the history of my relations with this borrowed idiom, with all these words so often weighed, worked over, refined, subtle to the point of nonexistence, bowed beneath the exactions of nuance, inexpressive from having expressed everything, alarming in their precision, burdened with fatigue and modesty, discreet even in vulgarity. How should a Scyth come to terms with such terms, grasp their true meaning and wield them with scruple, with probity? There is not one among them whose exhausted elegance fails to dizzy me: no longer a trace of earth, of blood, of soul in such words. A syntax of severe, of cadaverous dignity encompasses them and assigns them a place from which God Himself could not dislodge them. What consumption of coffee, of cigarettes and of dictionaries merely to write one half-way decent sentence in this inapproachable language, too noble and too distinguished for my taste! I realized as much, unfortunately, only after the fact, when it was too late to change my course; otherwise, I should never have abandoned our own, whose odor of growth and corruption I occasionally regret, that mixture of sun and dung with all its nostalgic ugliness, its splendid squalor. Return to it, I cannot; the tongue I was obliged to adopt pinions and subjugates me by the very pains it has cost me.' " --Languagehat 1-16-23

The Evil Stronghold.

"The Internet causes village idiots to form entire villages made up only of village idiots who have no idea they are village idiots"

Vlad Vexler (via @joycecaroloates)

On the path.

[natakuchan]

Alt!Story, Part II

Okay, let's rant some more~

In Alt!Story, Muffet and Asriel are childhood friends. Their share a tender affection that is blossoming in love. Asriel illness soon prevents him from attending school, so Muffet comes everyday to the castle, bringing homework and going through the lessons with him.

Chara, Grillby and Gaster are a solid group of friends. Yet, even if Grillby is sharing feelings for both of them, he eventually have to watch Chara and Gaster getting closer, leaving him outside it.

In the Underground, there are still descendants of the hybrids that used to work as priests. Yet they've entirely merged with the Underground's population, the only difference being the jewels made in that stone reacting to their blood. Those artefacts used to make powerful weapons, once a time, but now they are only forgotten relics kept by their families. Grillby's futur wife had inherited one, since she's an hybrid. Yet, direct mixing with a pure-blood human and a pure-dust monster is taboo, this because the pregnancies are always deadly. When Gaster and Chara finds out about the last one's state, it's too late and they are both confused and terrified.

Too afraid for Chara, Gaster will neglect his researches, thus failing to save Asriel. In this AU too, the royal couple will lose both if their childrens at the same time.

Chara dies but she leaves a son to Gaster. It's Sheep, Alt!Story's Sans. For Asgore is slipping into madness with the pain, Gaster wisely hides the child in Snowdin. Grillby will take care of it in its first years, then the child will mostly be left alone unattended inside the house.

Gaster would have been a good father, if there wasn't Nocturne. The nightmare had always yearned to gain back control over his exiled people, mostly for he has understood how useful the artefacts could be. If used rightly, those stone-jewels were code-writting tools. So to speak, they were able to bend reality to their will!

Nocturne was going into his 200years, rendered immortal because Pacifist was still alive as well. As foretold, he had led his own kindgom to great victories, conquering and looting accross the Multiverse with his army. The nightmare, fully corrupted as is, had 7generals in whose he relied on. Each of them representing a deadly sin as a title. He had a sneaky nature, as seemingly affably evil as he was, and used to stab behind backs to get what he wants. He often betrayed allys to steal their own lands when he could.

His own kindgom, as wealthy as it was, started to fall into decadency. He hated his citizens for what happened and was glad to encourage them into their downfall. They was easier to control that way.

Now, Asgore's great loss had left the former rebel leader in a second state. It was easy for Nocturne to manipulate him, making him turn its rage to the real problem: if it wasn't for hybrids to exist, Chara would still be alive, true? The poverty the Underground was in, truly, what a shame. But the artefacts could remedy to that. What. If mixing up those two problems, a solution is created? Artefacts only reacts to hybrids blood? Fine! Let's experiment on all the families having mixed ancestors! You have an artefact in your legacy? The soldiers are at your door!

Gaster was soon ordered back to the castle, forced to use the hybrids as test subjects or to face death for himself. He wanted to stay alive for his son. Chara would have wanted that. So he did what he was told.

Toriel was horrified to see the slaughter happening in the True Lab. She and Asgore had an ultimate fight that ended their marriage. As she was fleeing, full of guilt and pain, Nocturne hold her back for a time: He needed to explain her something.

Things are, that hybrids' souls are more powerful than humans. The image of the lost one stays for a while after the death. Concious, terrified, forgotten. Nocturne explains to Toriel there's a way to force the souls to linger eternally, protecting the little one from the secobd death. There were childrens among Gaster's new lab rats. Sure, Toriel would want to ease their souls, right? For that, nothing more than a little ritual, a being to sacrifice once a while, and the childrens souls will stay with her forever. With those advices in head, Toriel left for the ruins in which her minds will slowly falthers away with each sacrifice she'll made of the fallen humans.

The corpses stacked on in the True Lab, leaving Asgore with an health hazard problem. For that, Nocturne has an idea as well. Knowing how powerful hybrids are, recycling is the solution. Blood and flesh and bones all burn down in a furnace, so the dust is collected and morphed into crystals to create a new drug, the Decembre. The decembre's effects paralyse the mind, numb the body and generate a state of confusion. Nausea, loss of balance and fainting occurs to those who've been exposed to the burning crystals' toxic fume.

Gaster was eaten alive by guilt. As propaganda was flooding the streets and bodies piling up, there was no doubt he had to do something. Now saw as a mad scientist, a children mass murderer, there was no way he could find any helping hands. Yet. He was the only one having the artefacts in hands and with all those experiments, he had learn how to enhance their powers and use them to fight. He would have the chance to destroy Nocturne and free Asgore out of the nightmare's manipulations!

The only allies he could find were the one he most trusted. Grillby, who had always been there for him before Chara's death. And Muffet, who wanted to pursue her prince's dream of an utopy. Together, they founded The Résistance and started working on a plan. Yet. Gaster knew how dangerous things would get and his son had been left along for so long... A side-project of his was to create a clone of himself. A child called Papyrus that he then presented to Sans as is brother. Now, he knew his son would never be truly alone anymore, even would Gaster happen to fail and get killed.

[writemywalks]

Bariloche: part 1

Let's say, 5 years ago the yearning was thumping. It was like a distant roar under the blue sea but walking on safe ground sometimes makes you afraid of the groan inside you and you just press it down, brush it off and move on.

Life goes on and safe ground is shaken and what was safe isn't anymore.

Travel solo always been like a sort of utopy present in my life as some idealized movie scene. It always looked so appealing, having that main character vibe but since my self couldn't shake her anxiety off, I could only watch it from the distance.

It isn't a surprise since July 2019, my mind clicked and I've tried many things for the first time: from getting my own first tattoo on my left foot side to move from home. Yet going solo didn't feel like something reachable yet but the idea danced around at the back of my mind.

Probably, around August, feeling completely worn out this year not only from work but from failed friendships and fed up from my family expectancy of what i should be doing at this age, got me and I found myself roaming around flight pages. As I was vibing to a song with a green scenery music video, I was like, wouldn't it be cool to book a ticket to a place like that see what happens?

I waited some weeks since I wanted to do some calculus since I knew going to the South signified some numbers. September came around and without minding much if work was going to get those days from work, I booked my first solo flight.

I just told my parents since I didn't want to worry them but I wanted to be the trip to be as low-key as possible. Besides I wanted to avoid the tragic comments about a woman going solo.

As everyone was getting ready to prepare handmade dishes for Christmas and probably getting gifts at peak madness hours, I was getting on a bus ride to the airport with the same mindset I went to Ushuaia two years before: without giving too much thought into it and just go with the flow.

Wearing my mask and with just a grey bag on my back, I checked on the departure screen. Embarking was a half an hour away, so trying to keep myself from being questioned about a possible overweight bag from my low-cost flight, I put on some leggings and my grey sweatshirt.

Sitting on my randomnized plane seat at the back and begging my stomach wouldn't get those knots, I distracted myself reading my unfinished wip.

Apparently as the flight took off and it leveled up in the sky, I realized I lost my fear of flying since it felt more thrilling than threatening. Placing my earphones on my ears, I laid my head back at the headrest and spent the rest of the flight reading and smiling at some funny scenes I apparently wrote back when my computer hadn't broken down yet.

I arrived around 10 pm to an emptied and silent small aiport and apparently taxis on Christmas Eve didn't work like the rest of the week, and since Uber wasn't available either, me, two couples and a family of five were at the airport parking lot begging to someone to drive around and take us to the city.

At some point, a guy who was apparently sent by fate drove around offered us to take us on a ride  to the places we were staying.

I was already getting into an unexpected adventure, I was already loving it.

Clocking 11.40 pm, the clerk gave me a funny look and told me: "we were afraid you weren't coming after all" .Rising my eyebrows he wondered "do you know what you're going to eat?" and shrugging my shoulders I asked him about the possibility of getting some delivery good, he shot back "around Christmas night, I'm afraid not'. 

We laughed it off after I pondered and said "well i will go to bed famished, it wont be the first time"

Downstairs, there were my roommates having some beers and grilling some pizzas and long story short, I ended having some nice dinner with three girls who told me about volunteering work and travelling. Wish I wouldn't have been so tired after my flight because after i accepted going out with them, I passed out dressed up over my top bunk bed.

Fast forwarding to the 26th, I woke up and ready for a promising day ahead and after having packing some snacks, hot water and a bottle to keep me from getting dehydrated, I walked out the hotel and catching the bus that took me to the port for my boat trip, I anticipated the ride ahead as I enjoyed the view of the Nahuel Huapi lake coasting the whole way there. The deep blue skies up above looked as wide sea.

Flashing back to my first time on a boat trip in Ushuaia, this time I did my best to catch the best views at the bow but since the forest fire that happened some days ago, the sight was foggy, making it lose behind the event aftermath.

Nevertheless after our first stop into a short walk among myrtle trees, with trails with a green scenery as far as eyed could see, nothing prepared me for the next stop that was about to be presented to us.

And here comes the struggle: taking solo pics with the landscapes behind. Even though some families and couples politely complied to take me some, I always found the frame off and since I didn't want bother that much, i decided to push those pics for later and lose myself in the crystal clear water as the boat swang and led us into a dock with a guide waiting for us.

Even though I'm not much into guiding tours, it was interesting enough for me to stick around and hear some facts about deers and their sexual frustration releasing methods. Quite interesting.

Isla Victoria really was the peak of the walk and feeling bliss since whatever I looked it gave such a summery vibe and regretting not having taken a bath suit, i pulled off my trainers and pulling up my leggings I tasted the waters.

Was a nice begging for my solo trip.

Since I don't plan my activities ahead, by the end of the night, I was between many options at hand and despite coming solo to make friends at the hostel, I didn't spend that much socializing, even though I had made some cool acquaintances. The solemnly of being a loner.

Next day i had planned visiting the promising "Villa Tacull", a beach one of the guys I had met the former night had recommended. A big rock was erected in the middle of a blue sea even clearer than the one I had visited before. But the magic of going unplanned is whatever you plan can be shifted by nature ones: taking the same bus I had taken the day before I got myself ready for the Circuito Chico trekking, famous for its different spots and panoramic views of the mountains, lakes and green sights. 

As I was walking up the streets, coasting the roads, the guy had advised me the day before to watch out for since cars would speed up very close to the road side, I came across a Spanish couple who told me the trail was closed due to the fire, Bariloche had suffered those last days. For some minutes, I was starting to get grumpy and bothered. Most of the activities were starting to be canceled due to the incident and with zero idea what to do and planning what to do as I took a walk around the famous "Llao Llao hotel", I sat back at the bus stop and pondering what the hell I was going to do with the budget I got.

I'm the one to enjoy activities where I can appreciate the sights and different spots where I can sigh deep and feel the fresh air in my lungs but some part of me is always pumping to what make me feel alive. As I search activities, riding the bus back to the city, I googled "extreme sports": something scared my mom the moment I told her when I ranted to her through my texts.

Stopping at the Cerro Campanario chairlifts since apparently it was one of the city must, stepping my foot on my way up to the ticket booth, I stared up and to be honest, it didn't give me that much thrill. What was I suppose to do sitting there? Hum to myself?

Sitting on those steps and trying to Google some spots for sea sports, I found a tiny red dot with good reviews about 'Stand up Paddle'. Even though it wasn't the out of hand (and out of my budget activity) Kitesurf, the moment I read I could do the activity at the famous Nahuel Huapi lake, without giving much thought, I phoned the place and crossed my fingers to finally find something that would worth the money

[trevorbarre]

Nick Cave and The Bad Seed: Bogus Pomp?

"Tall, always wearing a suit, saturnine in countenance, having enjoyed prolonged narcotics use and making no secret of this ("utopiate!"), and cultivating a nostalgie de la boue image of the boho 'outsider' "

I could be talking about William S. Burroughs here, of course, or even one of his most self-conscious disciples, Will Self ('Hampstead Garden Suburb Gothic' in his case, perhaps?), but on this occasion it's Nick Cave, who has been far from taking time off during lockdown, releasing his Ally Pally solo performance of last year, Idiot Prayer, and also a new studio album, called, with typical reticence, Carnage, by Cave and his regular multi-instrumentalist confrere Warren Ellis. This duo has been manifesting for some time, what with them collaborating on several film soundtracks, and on the (brief, now discontinued?) side project Grinderman. (I could never work out if the latter was a gentle self-parody of Cave's sometimes ambiguous sexual amorality, such as that alluded to on his version of Stagger Lee.)

Is this the way things will be from now on - Nick Cave and his Bad Seed?

I usually buy every non-soundtrack studio album that Cave releases, and count myself an avid fan, but it wasn't always this way: I failed to 'get' the first four Bad Seeds albums (having previously loved The Birthday Party to death). I found the 'Southern Gothic'/'Tupulo Elvis' shtick annoying and mannered in the extreme, having earlier felt exactly the same about Tom Waits, at least until the latter's dual triumphs of Swordfishtrombones and Rain Dogs. However, I experienced a Damascene conversion on hearing Cave's 1988 Tender Prey, and particularly enjoyed (Murder Ballads excepting, with Bob Dylan's Death Is Not the End very clearly the standout track) Cave's subsequent 'run', up to, and, especially, 1997's 'all-killer, no-filler' The Boatman's Call (his greatest, and certainly most consistent, work?) After the latter, he took some sort of sabbatical, and, since the disappointingly weak No More Shall We Part (2001) and Noctorama (2003), his work has been infuriatingly uneven. (I've always thought that Mick Harvey's departure in 2010 contributed to the ever-increasing diminution in quality of the Cave output.)

Of course, the death of Cave's teenage son, Arthur, in 2015, occasioned an unimaginable caesura, and Cave hence seemed incapable, or unwilling, to write songs that have any pace beyond the funereal. It thus seems unlikely that we will hear the likes of The Mercy Seat or Let Love In again. While this might seem entirely appropriate given the circumstances, and latter day tracks like Lavender Fields, Waiting For You and Bright Horses remain luminescent, moving and beautiful, the album trio of Skeleton Tree, Ghosteen and now Carnage present a static caravan of gloom, 'lightened' by an overall sense of an aching, painful yearning for some kind of transcendence.

Sadly (only for me, that is, perhaps), some of my earlier doubts about the Cave project have re-emerged with Carnage. "It's OK" is all I can really say, and I very much doubt if I will be listening it much in a few month's time. The fourth track, White Elephant, seems, for me, to be a synecdoche for the whole album. Firstly, I am 'completely over' Cave's use of guns and gynocidal grande guignol in his lyrics, a trope which hugely put me off Murder Ballads, which I found ludicrously and humourlessly overblown, utterly tasteless and musically uninteresting, a (man)nerd shlock for hopeless hipsters. The power of this particular Bad Seeds iteration seemed to totally protect Cave from it's sheer bad faith, with full credit to his great band. (Cave's trope of his "his little pen knife...plugged her through and through", on Henry Lee however, was a teeny weeny bit of a give away as to somewhat Trumpian underlying anxieties ?)

For one, I find the sound of a prosperous middle-class white man in his mid-60s singing "I'll shoot you in the fucking face if you think of coming round here... I will shoot you in the face if you so much as look at me", faintly preposterous and definitely "not a good look". Cave merely sounds a bit mad and/or irritable here, as opposed to 'bad' or even 'dangerous to have a morning coffee in Brighton Marina with". There are far too many reminders of Murder Ballads here for me, with the latter's utterly asinine O'Malley's Bar as the prime witness for the summing up of the prosecution. (I'm well aware that 'anger' is one of stages of the Kubler-Ross grief framework, but really?) Many will find this Carnage version of Cave no doubt somehow 'authentic', as they may do with such modish lyrics as "a protester kneel(ing) on the neck of a statue, the statue says I can't breath...". For me, though, they strain credibility and sound rather desperate for contemporary relevance and resonance.

I became especially exasperated by the 'gospel choir' of the coda to the fourth track, White Elephant (in the room?). Now, Cave can do choirs, as he proved with the likes of O Children on 2004's The Lyre of Orpheus (again, a maddeningly inconsistent album), but White Elephant is purely an exercise in sheer bombast, and, it is, yes, bathetic (and fundamentally unnecessary, in terms of the album's overall affect/effect). 'Mannered' just about sums it up, I'm afraid, and Frank Zappa's phrase 'bogus pomp' immediately presented itself to me, like an unwanted mind fart. I've always, even on Cave's greatest recordings, thought that swearing and shooting women in the face are neither big nor cool gestures, evidence perhaps that I have an excessive and intrusively 'woke' superego? Or maybe that Nick Cave still has, and still has, a problem with aggressive gun fantasies involving the women?

Listening to Bob Dylan's genuinely transcendent latest work (prompted by Paul Morley's new book, which I intend to look at next), I realised that the notion of shooting people can be addressed in a genuinely ambiguous (not postmodern) and thoughtful way. Similarly, conflicts with women don't have to be resolved by whipping out double barrelled penis substitutes, and seemingly luxuriating in feeble 'pen knife' hostility.

I look forward to Nick Cave moving on and upwards. If not, then I'm afraid that "I'm out", as the Dragon's Den say.

[lonelytartcake]

White Nationalists: Trump will put America first! If Mexico won't pay for the wall, we'll donate 1B dollars!

Everyone else: Okay, but while you're busy ignoring the fact that Trump was a bullshitter and failed to negotiate with Mexico on the wall, and ignore the fact that, like we've all been saying, that ultimately it'll come out of the wallets of Americans no matter what, there are children within our own states who need clean water. Yeah, the flint michigan crisis is still happening, and yet not a damn dime is being spent on our own American children. Talk about America first, right? Or is it just the idea of a strong unified America that turns you on more than actually helping Americans without the hyper idealism of an isolated homogenous utopi-

White Nationalists: YOU WILL NOT REPLACE USSSSS! WHITE GENOCIDE IS REAL!USA!USA!USA!USA!USA!

[zoosfluides-blog]

MoNO PriX TAriF DOubLE

Ah voilà.

Je voudrais parler d’un truc mais je sais pas trop comment.

Parce que sans me taper avec des petits bâtons de culpabilité, sans avoir la boule dans la gorge qui voudrait hurler mais retient tout pour pas être la « mauvaise, mauvaise, suis-je mauvaise ? », c’est pas facile.

J’avais pas imaginé. J’ai pas fabriqué un bébé seule. C’est évident.

Mais dans ma vie de tous les jours, dans le quotidien, c’est comme ça. Mon enfant et moi sommes seules. Ensembles, mais seule l’une face à l’autre et faces à la vie aussi, qui chahute, qui bouscule et fait aussi parfois des chatouilles. Je ne peux pas échapper à ma parentalité. Et elle non plus ne peut pas échapper à ma parentalité.

Et des fois, j’aimerais bien entrer dans une bulle où je ne serais pas une parente seule à temps complet du quotidien. Son autre parent légalisé existe, il est là, dans une autre maison. Mais pas dans le quotidien des choses quotidiennes, pas dans la routine, pas dans les tâches domestico-éducatives-financières chronophages  et conflictuelles pendant lesquelles je serre les dents (que des fois j’ai la chance d’avoir pu brosser) parce que le temps tourne, parce que y’a la fatigue qui coule le long des épaules, parce que, parce que...

Y’a tellement de raisons pour serrer les dents. Pas que pour des sourires. Je me fais des fois des boucles émotionnelles complètes avec des larmes dans les yeux quand j’ai mal à ma relation parentale. Je bidouille, je me débrouille, le mieux que je peux. Mais c’est toujours en insuffisance parce que le quotidien me laisse pas la même tolérance. Je n’ai pas le temps de la patience. Je cours et mes chaussures sont trouées de tout ce temps que je peux pas prendre, pour rire avec elle, pour ne rien faire avec elle, pour jouer avec elle. Tous ces petits instants ratés, volés, raptés, parce qu’il faut nourrir, laver, organiser, remplir le frigo et plier le linge. Parce qu’il faut éduquer et donner des outils suffisants pour se faire une vie vivable du mieux qu’on peut.

Je n’ai pas trop d’espace pour la coolitude parentale, celle qui te dit de lire des manuels sur la bienveillance et la bioparentalité sans pesticides.

Mes espaces à moi se perdent dans l’anticipation des actions à dérouler pour que le quotidien suive son cours, pour que le toit reste sur notre tête, pour qu’on ait encore de la lumière et de l’eau chaude. La précarité monoparentale, c’est pas un mirage, c’est une putain de réalité que tu manges tous les jours en tartine symbolique, jusqu’à l’indigestion. Je sens les nœuds dans mon estomac qui ne se relâchent que dans un sommeil sans rêves. La nuit je suis épuisée, je n’ai pas de possibilités oniriques. Cette réalité précaire c’est un peu comme une punition sans fin, reconduite mensuellement entre deux découverts systématiques et des agios.

Précaire, précaire, précaire et monop’.  Et ma colère, parce que tout mon temps volé pour de l’argent ne suffit pas à nous mettre en sécurité, s’échoue dans mon cœur, qui est brisé, froid et certains jours sans espoirs. Ma joie est contrainte à la colère et au chagrin. Ce fonctionnement socio-économique me rend structurellement insuffisante, nous vulnérabilise, mon enfant, moi et rend nos vies vertigineuses.

Je ne suis pas assez agençable dans les normes hétéropatriarcales. La sanction de la précarité c’est le rappel à l’Ordre. La deuxième c’est que tu dois prouver deux fois plus. Si tu parles de tes galères on te dira que c’est à cause de ça que t’es seule, on mettra en doute ta capacité à être parent, on te fera manger ton vomi d’insuffisance, on te trouvera des solutions pré-prêtes (auxquelles bien sûr on présuppose que t’as pas pensé puisque t’es moins que deux). On te frappera avec des petits bouts de compassion oscillant entre tonalité tragique et peur de la contagion.

Notre vie n’est pas tragique. Nous ne sommes pas des insuffisantes.  C’est Hétéroland[1] qui nous rend insuffisantes.

La monop’ est toujours représentée (dans ta tête, tes bouquins, ta télé) dans le négatif de la relation biparentale. C’est systématiquement dans une brisure, des larmes et du chaos qu’elle s’inscrit la monop’. Ben pour ma part, ça s’est passé dans le silence et le sourire, à la fin d’une conversation juste avant le début d’une autre. Sans bruit.

Mon enfant et moi on est représentées comme un échec ou non représentées. Comme un écho du manque, manque de l’autre parent, de stabilité avec risques pathologiques pour l’enfant, résultant sans (nul) doute de ma vie dissolue et post traumatique de petite animale perturbée.

ET puis faut être super héroïne à temps complet et sourire. Quand on a un vagin le sourire est davantage préconisé et surtout face à l’adversité. Pour constater la docilité de tes dents et ta bonne santé mentale.

Quel effet ça fait d’être monoparente ?

Ben ça aurait pu être génial si les oppressions systémiques (hétéronormativitécapitaliste[2]) nous réduisaient pas (systématiquement) dans une marrasse où on galère à reprendre du souffle, à porter nos choix ou à manger à partir du 12 du mois.

Et je suis blanche. Je suis valide. J’ai la maîtrise des codes de langages. J’ai un diplôme. Une famille. Des amies. Alors j’en chie mais ça aurait pu être peines multiples. Quand Hétéroland[3] veut me faire croire que c’est moi la fautive, j’ai quand même vachement plus de liberté pour dire « je vous emmerde jusqu’à la lie et je me torcherais bien sur vous ». Oui j’ai parfois le caca contestataire.

Dans une utopie post-hétéronormative, y’aurait plus de romantisation hétéro-Disney de la famille, ce modèle familial qui découle d’un fucking-continuum de la reproductivité hétéronormée, grâce auquel tellement de personnes deviennent dépressives réactionnelles et continuent de se supporter au détriment de leur bonheur. Dans notre culture, la famille vient juste désigner le produit de la reproduction, un prolongement de l’hétérosexualité ou de ce qui peut s’y conformer. En gros on te fait croire que la famille découle des fluides et des sécrétions en même temps qu’elle y coule dedans. Un concept bien aliénant teinté à l’amour-cœur-grenadine d’appartenance non résolue et non choisie.  

Dénaturalisons la famille, deshétérosexualisons-là, défaisons-là, faisons là notre, avec nos animaux consentants, celleux qui nous transpercent le cœur de jubilation comme un arc-en-ciel même si on échange aucun fluide avec elleux, ou ne la faisons pas, visibilisons toutes ces autres choses, créons, inventons notre intime ex-timité.

 Fail. « On ne rigole pas avec la parentalité ».

Un mono prix pour un tarif double et des fois compte triple.

« tu pensais qu’c’était ça c’est mais c’était pas ça c’est »

[1] J’appelle Hétéroland un fabuleux pays hétéronormatif. Hétéronormatif, c’est juste le fait de dire que y’a des hommes, des femmes, que y’a la famille, que c’est la nature, que c’est normal, que c’est la vie, son début, sa fin et son but ultime. Hein. Que le reste on le voit pas, que ça existe pas où que c’est quand y’a un problème.

[2] Je rajoute capitaliste pour une meilleure compréhension de  « c’est quoi je dis » mais je pense que le capitalisme est à l’intérieur du dispositif hétéronormatif, une des technologies permettant sa reconduction/reproduction.

[3] J’appelle Hétéroland un fabuleux pays hétéronormatif. Hétéronormatif, c’est un peu dire en gros que dans la vie y’a que des hommes et des femmes, qu’ils sont opposé.e.s et naturellement complémentaires que y’a la famille, que c’est la nature, que c’est normal, que c’est la vie, son début, sa fin et son but ultime. Que ça a toujours été comme ça. Que c’est La Vérité. Hein. Que le reste on le voit pas, que ça existe pas où que c’est quand y’a un problème. Que si t’as un problème, t’es pas normale, alors t’es malade et triste et puni de distribution de miettes d’amour.

[ffstlanguage-blog]

The automated human being in times of Digitalisation

The discussion following an article in „The Guardian“, published on the 6.12.2017, raised an additional question for me which was not discussed by the involved parties and media. Contrary to the opinion that the croatian Border Police did not fulfill their duties on the one hand and the assurance that all laws where followed by the respective officers on the other hand. I want to consider the failure of the human beings involved in this incident. An incident which at least in my opinion hints towards a much bigger problem our society and it's social beings are going to face in times in which Digitalisation influences all parts of our work and private life.

For merging these topics into one omnipresent problem everyone is facing nowadays, I first have to outline several characteristics of our society, which intellectuals like Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels have forshadowed already more than 100 years ago.1

Today we live in a workcentred world where work is the central social mechanism to distribute wealth and money, which is then used to satisfy our material needs. An idividual's job is his or her priority function in the society, it determines our value for the society, we measure and compare each other on that basis. Our jobs determine our function in society and represent our status, they contribute to our identities and form several aspects of it.2 Specifically they become our masks, which we carry out and show the world.

Who does not know the question: „And what is it you do?“ A questions that does not aim to elicit what you are doing in your free time or what kind of a person you consider yourself to be, but primarly and most of the times only seeks for finding out your profession. As soon as you revealed yourself to being a doctor, teacher or engineer, you will be allocated to certain characteristics that itself fit in the overall image a society developed of this profession. A human being that works as a doctor will always be perceived as a doctor by his or her environment. Certain characteristics allocated to the image of a doctor in the respective society will be observed way more frequently than others which may not fit into the image of a doctor.

The identity put on us by society, our surroundings and ourselves allowes a human being to hide behind it, e.g. a human being who fulfills the function of an officer of the croatian Border Police was able send a refugee family back to Serbia in the middle of the night on 21st of November in 2017. A decision that was followed by a tragedy as six year old Madina Hussiny was mortally hit by a train.3 Unlike others I will not focus on what the croatian Border Police, as an institution has done wrong or what they where obliged to do by EU law, but on what has to happen to a human being in order to not be able to realize that it is wrong on many levels to send a family with little children back into the night in the middle of the winter.

Are we so distant from each other that we are not able to see through the classifications put on us by society? Can a Border Police Officer nowadays not see the human counterpart in a refugee, a counterpart that dreams of the same basic things?

Karl Marx already outlined a future society in the mid 19th century with the aim that this society should allow it's social beings „to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or critic.”.4 Marx followed the theory that the technological progress would lead to higher production of bigger amounts of commodities, with less human capital necessary. He wanted to minimize the value creating factors of work and maximize the personal freedom of individuals to use their workforce in ways they would choose themselves, creating worklife that would represent our human nature, a puzzle of different interests, of assets and weaknesses. The reduction to one function that determines our value for the society and our status in the society is inhuman. We have to stop comparing ourselves and measuring our value in criterias that every machine is better in.

We are facing new questions and problems nowadays than Marx was facing 150 years ago and still his theories and thoughts on society and economy seem to be more and more relevant for understanding ourselves, how the system we created works and what kind of solutions we should try to find.

In Madina Hussiny's case, every machine or algorythm could have come to the conclusion to send them back to Serbia, since they tried to cross the border illegally definetely a logical decision. Only a human could have decided to keep them safe for the night! A decision that needs empathy and compassion to be made, both clearly human qualities, also a decision that would have saved her life, at least for that night. Obviously these qualities do not benefit a Border Police Officer in fulfilling his or her function in this society, otherwise this little girl would still be alive. This decision was made because the respective officers probably had certain orders on dealing with situations like these. Most impotantly this decision was made because it is not required in most jobs to use our brains for finding an answer ourselves but we follow answers someone else is providing for us, this someone most of the times sits in a big building far away and never experiences the situation in person. When a traffic accident happens or a plane crashes, the official statement considering the reasons often include the phrase „human failure“, unfortunately in Madina's case the topic of the discussion is whether the institution of the croatian Border Police failed or whether the authorities gave out wrong guidelines to their officers.

Every psyochologist can verify that we human beings are considered to have some sort of decisive force, we are able to determine what is the right course of action based on the experience and role models we had during our lifes. Most private people know what they want for themselves and for the people close to them, unfortunately this seems to change when we fulfill our function in society, like these Officers that were most probably following the guidelines of their superiors, a chain of command that continues.

The problematic point is, that we have our brains for a reason, we are individuals for a reason, our greatest strength comes from our need for freedom and making our own decisions, as does our greatest weakness. 

If the automatisation of the human being, especially considering work force and work life which both strongly influence our private life and perception of people, is the declared goal of our society, the Digitalisation will create way bigger problems as we are able to understand so far.

Machines have the potential to do up to 78% of predictable physical work in the future, which is only one aspect we have to consider.5 The question is whether we can continue comparing ouselves in criterias in which machines are clearly better, e.g. logical decisions, physical work force and simply following orders? Machines complete these tasks better and more efficient than a human being could ever do, still we continue measuring our value for society in the value of the professions we represent.

The answer to the Industrialisation in the 19th century and the problems it created was the social state, a state that cares for the distribution of wealth, benefits social care and health care to ideally all of it's citizens. The percentage of the overall profit that is distributed to an individual was since then based on the work force an individual has, on how many tasks an individual can complete in a certain time. The more tasks are completed or the more important a task is, the bigger the amount of our exchange currency, money, this individual earns. A system that will not function in the future anymore, since now competitors are present in all parts of society. Competitors we can not compete with if we play by the same rules and measure our value in criterias that are not primarly human. We needed almost 200 years to find satisfying answers to the social questions produced by the Industrialisation, we will not have another 200 years to deal with the questions raised by Digitalisation.

I want to conclude with the point that we have to reinvent our system of values on which we evaluate ourselves and our contribution to society towards a system that understands that we are not comparable in terms of automatisated behaviour. A system that fits our human nature and allows a freer assessment of human work force and work life. Every human being should be enabled to find his or her place in society without having to fit in an image of the respective profession or simply following orders to be considered a successful and value creating factor. We are not just factors or little cogwheels in the machine, we are the inventors of this machinery and we should not get stuck in it or let it determine our lifes. To find the right answers to the problem of restructuring and rethinking our society will be the most important task of our generation.

Footnotes:

1 Engels & Marx, 1976

2 "Zukunft der Arbeit: Vollautomatischer Kommunismus - zeit.de", 2018

3 Graham-Harrison, 2018

4 Engels &Marx, 1976

5 "Where machines could replace humans--and where they can’t (yet)", 2018

References:

Print media:

Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1976). The German ideology. Moscow: Progress Publishers

Electronic media:

Zukunft der Arbeit: Vollautomatischer Kommunismus - zeit.de. Retrieved 06 March 2018, from http://www.zeit.de/kultur/2016-12/automatisierung-arbeitsgesellschaft-roboter-utopie-kommunismus

Graham-Harrison, E. (2018). 'They treated her like a dog': tragedy of the six-year-old killed at Croatian border. the Guardian. Retrieved 27 February 2018, from https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/dec/08/they-treated-her-like-a-dog-tragedy-of-the-six-year-old-killed-at-croatian-border

Where machines could replace humans--and where they can’t (yet). (2018). McKinsey & Company. Retrieved 6 March 2018, from https://www.mckinsey.com/business-functions/digital-mckinsey/our-insights/where-machines-could-replace-humans-and-where-they-cant-yet

Semjon Fischer

[revuedepresse30]

« Le système bancaire apparaît aujourd’hui comme une énorme bombe à retardement »

Loin de se consacrer au financement de l’économie réelle, l’activité des grandes banques est essentiellement de nature spéculative. Les signaux ne manquent pas pour attirer notre attention sur l’explosion financière qui se prépare. « Too big to fail » (« trop grosses pour faire faillite ») disait-on il y a peu de temps encore pour critiquer la concentration bancaire pourtant le système bancaire apparaît plus concentré que jamais. Peux-tu nous résumer la situation du système bancaire mondial ? …

from revue de presse economie politique http://ift.tt/2Ax6ttU via IFTTT

Classé dans:économie, finance, politique Tagged: économie, crise, finance, politique, revue de presse economie politique from utopies investigations http://ift.tt/2zuMo9l via IFTTT

[kreimlink]

„Trapped in the 9-5 it's like swimming upstream Do as they tell you forethought is bound to fail [...] To busy rushing to a go no-where career You think you're free? You just can't see the bars were all in prison in these free countries of ours Your not free you never we're...“ (#chokehold - content with dying) „Arbeit am Müßiggang - Eine Utopie denkbar machen: [...] ein Labor, um zu erkunden, wie Arbeit unser Leben beeinflusst und unsere Zeit strukturiert. In einem Audiowalk spazieren die Gäste durch die Reindorfgasse [...]. Anhand von konkreten Häusern und Geschäften erfahren sie, wie die Entwicklung des Kapitalismus unsere Wahrnehmung von Arbeitszeit, Freizeit und Lebenszeit verändert hat. Ein Spaziergang ins 18. Jahrhundert und wieder zurück in die Gegenwart.“ (http://www.wienwoche.org/de/488/arbeit_am_müßiggang) #arbeit #kapitalismus #entfremdung #arbeitszeit #wienwoche

[dinahartasya]

Cita-Cita

Terlalu utopis gak sih kalau aku bilang cita-cita aku ingin save the world? Menyelamatkan dunia?

Back to the past, aku sebenarnya gak ambisi-ambisi banget tentang cita-cita. Malah bisa dibilang, aku gak pernah berambisi untuk ranking 1 selama di sekolah, aku gak pernah berambisi untuk menang lomba ini, lomba itu selama di sekolah, aku gak pernah berambisi ingin dikenal dan populer di sekolah. Pokoknya flat banget lah. Sekolah ya tinggal sekolah. Belajar, tinggal belajar. Tapi gak niat-niat banget. Maksudnya, cuma sebatas belajar di sekolah. Di rumah? Nonton tv, leyeh-leyeh.

Tapi, deep inside, ketertarikan pada suatu bidang itu sudah ada dari zaman SD. Waktu aku kelas 3 SD, cerita pendek (cerpen)-ku pernah dipuji oleh guru Bahasa Indonesia. Gara-gara itu aku overly proud bahwa aku memang bakat di menulis. Pasti tulisanku akan selalu bagus. Sehingga aku punya cita-cita untuk menjadi penulis. Terus, aku punya om yang bekerja sebagai sutradara. Aku yang suka banget nonton film tiba-tiba terobsesi untuk buat film based on cerpen-cerpen atau someday, novelku sendiri.

Tapi, cita-cita itu kandas karena aku gak didukung sama Bapakku. Bapak bilang, “kamu tuh harus punya satu bidang lain yang bisa menunjang kehidupanmu. Kalau kamu cuma berfokus pada bidang seni, nanti ke depannya bakal susah”. Karena jiwaku masih jiwa labil, apa yang dikata orang tua, diikut aja. Aku belum berani take a risk. Aku belum berani mengungkapkan pendapatku.

SMP. Masa-masa paling abu-abu banget. Aku mulai menemukan bidang favoritku, yaitu astronomi.  But the reason was, it was simply i love stars. Melihat bintang di malam hari, selalu menenangkan. Mulailah aku tertarik dengan dunia perbintangan dan lainnya. But it was abstract. Aku gak tau tujuan jelas kenapa aku harus fokus di bidang astronomi.

Sampai akhirnya aku jadi anak SMA. Aku sangat menyerah dengan pelajaran fisika semasa SMA. Sekeras apapun aku belajar untuk ulangan harian, tetap aja nilaiku gak tuntas. Hanya untuk materi teori relativitas dan astronomi yang nilaiku tuntas. Tapi aku berpikir, otakku belum bisa berpikir sejernih fisikawan sejati. Oke, aku mungkin bisa belajar astronomi, tapi, logika-logika fisika pasti masih dibutuhkan. So i decide, i’m done with physics.

Sampai akhirnya, kelas 2 / 3 SMA gitu, aku mulai memerhatikan kondisi sosial. Kondisi bangsa. Kondisi negara. Aku mulai memerhatikan sekelilingku. Mulai melihat kondisi orang-orang di jalanan. Mulai mendengar dan menyimak cerita-cerita orang tuaku tentang pekerjaan mereka dan apa yang sedang mereka hadapi, dan aku merasa, this world is unhealthy, in every sides.

Then i thought, kayaknya aku tau cita-citaku apa, aku ingin menyelamatkan indonesia. Ingin membantu menyejahterakan masyarakat dan menegakkan keadilan. Hanya sesimpel itu. Tanpa berpikir bahwa untuk menyejahterakan masyarakat dan menegakkan keadilan, itu gak semudah kita mengucapkannya. Apalagi, salah satu cara untuk bisa mewujudkannya adalah berkecimpung di dunia yang paling abu-abu, apalagi kalau bukan dunia politik. Penuh dengan taktik, strategis, kebijakan, kepentingan suatu pihak. Karena rakyat belum bisa dikatakan sejahtera, dan keadilan belum benar-benar ditegakkan, berarti apakah bisa dikatakan politik yang mengatur kebijakan negara sudah berjalan dengan baik? Dan jika aku serius di bidang ini, akan ada perjuangan keras, tekanan, lelah yang takkan hilang, dan otak yang terus berpikir akan rakyat. Aku cuma menyimpan ini dalam benakku saja.  

 And the time was coming. Waktu untuk menentukan studi lanjutan sebelum akhirnya ke kehidupan yang sebenarnya, dimulai. Karena aku sudah menyimpan impian untuk menyelamatkan indonesia lewat jalur politik, aku memilih ilmu politik sebagai pilihan program studi. Tapi, ilmu politik itu pilihan kedua. Pilihan ke satunya?

Sebenarnya, semasa SMA, mata pelajaran favoritku adalah kimia. Kimia sempat menjadi passion-ku dalam belajar. Tabel periodik udah jadi makanan sehari-hari. Tapi, ketika sbmptn, aku merasa aku gak bakal mampu untuk ikut tes sbmptn IPC (Ilmu Pengetahuan Campuran). Aku harus memilih, apakah aku tes SBMPTN IPA atau SBMPTN IPS. Dan keinginanku untuk menyelamatkan indonesia lewat jalur politik lebih besar daripada menjadi ilmuwan kimia, akhirnya aku memutuskan untuk ikut SBMPTN IPS.

And one missing story left. Sebelum aku berpikir untuk menyelamatkan Indonesia, aku terlebih dahulu berpikir untuk menyelamatkan dunia. Ketika aku belajar materi Hubungan Internasional dan PBB (Perserikatan Bangsa-Bangsa) di kelas 2 dalam mata pelajaran PKN, aku memiliki keinginan untuk mempelajari materi ini deeply. Because every international news i read, selalu tentang perang dan nuklir. Perang yang gak berhenti-berhenti, kesejahteraan yang belum merata di seluruh negara, masih adanya negara miskin dan negara maju, dan bahkan masih ada negara-negara yang masih bisa kita sebut sebagai “terbelakang”. Usaha-usaha untuk melakukan kerja sama antar negara sudah dilakukan tapi hasilnya masih belum signifikan. Sebenarnya yang paling membuatku terus berpikir adalah perang. Like, ini udah zaman modern tapi perang antar negara yang menggunakan senjata, masih belum hilang dari muka bumi ini.

Then i was thinking, kenapa aku gak fokus aja di bidang politik internasional? Mungkin aku bisa berperan disitu.

So my first choice in sbmptn was hubungan internasional. Tapi, ketika orang-orang nanya “kamu daftar di prodi apa kuliahnya?” i just answer with “ilmu politik.” Karena aku terlalu malu dan merasa terlalu utopis kalau aku menjawab aku memilih HI karena ingin menyelamatkan dunia.

Akan tetapi, masalah demi masalah datang. I failed in my sbmptn. Sedih? Wah udah pasti. When you have set your dream high, and you have put your own best efforts, udah mati-matian belajar, tapi hasilnya, zero. I failed.  

Ada banyak faktor. Mungkin belajarku masih kurang tekun lagi, doa ku masih belum kenceng, ibadahku masih belum bagus, dan... aku belum mendapat restu dari orang tua.

So i told you, guys, jangan pernah merasa bahwa orang tua gak berhak menentukan hidupmu. Ya, terkadang memang apa yang kita mau sama apa yang orang tua mau, bisa berbeda. Kamu sangat tahu apa yang kamu mau. Tapi, orang tua juga punya pandangan tersendiri, which is good for us. At least, at least, jangan meremehkan pendapat mereka. Dengarkan dulu. Lalu pikirkan lah dari dua sisi. Sisi kamu dan sisi orang tuamu. Pikirkan apa yang orang tuamu mau. Dan apa yang bisa kamu ubah.

Ini kesalahan terbesarku, tidak mau mendengarkan apa kata orang tuaku. Orang tuaku sangat berharap aku masuk ekonomi. Walaupun memang pendapat orang tuaku kenapa ekonomi itu bagus, simply because aku bisa lebih gampang dapat kerjaan. Aku gak setuju dengan pendapat itu, but, seharusnya dari awal, jika aku bisa berdiskusi dengan baik ke kedua orangtuaku, aku bisa mempertimbangkan untuk masuk ekonomi. Because finally, i ended up in faculty of economics and business as my next field for study. Yang sedikit banyak ternyata memberiku pencerahan bahwa aku, bisa save the world di bidang ekonomi. And/or both with politics.

Tapi, prodi ku adalah manajemen. As you know, economics science and management adalah dua fokus yang berbeda. Kalau kamu belajar manajemen, mostly yang kita bahas lebih tentang business to business. Sedangkan kalau belajar ilmu ekonomi, ya beda lah. Lebih komprehensif.

Sebenarnya aku kembali pesimis. Kenapa aku gak di ilmu ekonomi ya?

But, ketika aku semester 2 atau semester 3 gitu, aku belajar Managerial Economics. Aku selalu ingat sama pesan salah satu dosenku. “kalian ini bakal jadi sarjana Ekonomi. Bukan sarjana manajemen. Masa kalian gak tau tentang ilmu ekonomi, tentang GDP, tentang kondisi ekonomi negara? Karena kalian sarjana ekonomi, ekspektasi orang terhadap kalian adalah, kalian tau semua tentang ekonomi. Jadi, pelajarilah ekonomi secara keseluruhan.”

Pesan itu yang membuatku semangat lagi. Meskipun aku belajar manajemen, tapi akhirnya aku tetap mempelajari makroekonomi. Dan hal-hal yang berkaitan dengan ilmu ekonomi. Apalagi, aku berkesempatan belajar makro satu semester di jepang. Di sana aku juga mendapat pencerahan lagi tentang bagaimana ilmu ekonomi itu sendiri ada cabangnya. Salah satunya, economic geography. Atau economics development.

Jadi, terlalu berlebihan gak kalau aku bilang aku bercita-cita untuk menyelamatkan dunia, kali ini di bidang yang sudah diarahkan oleh Allah, yaitu ekonomi?

Sebenarnya aku memang belum ada peran apa-apa sehingga berani ngomongin tentang cita-cita. Tapi toh, hidup kita cuma sekali. Setidaknya, kalaupun pada akhirnya tidak tercapai impian kita, kita sudah berusaha semaksimal mungkin, dengan segala potensi kita, untuk mewujudkan impian tersebut.

Dan yang terpenting, Allah telah berjanji bahwa gak ada satupun usaha kita yang sia-sia selama kita gunain untuk kebaikan. Dan belajar, adalah sebuah kebaikan. Mengejar cita-cita, adalah sebuah kebaikan. Karena dengan tercapainya cita-cita tersebut, kita bisa memberikan kebermanfaatan bagi sesama.

Aku memang masih dalam tahap ‘perjalanan’. Tapi aku gak akan berhenti untuk mengejar cita-citaku untuk menyelamatkan dunia. Kalaupun aku berhenti, aku berharap dengan tulisan ini, kalian bisa menjadi reminder-ku akan cita-cita yang ingin kucapai ini.

Apapun cita-cita kalian, apapun bidang yang sedang kalian tekuni, semoga cita-cita itu bisa membuatmu lebih peduli dengan sesama, dan membuatmu bisa memberikan dampak yang baik bagi sekitar. The future belong to us, young generation! Jangan pernah menyerah dengan cita-citamu. Jalan yang ditempuh memang tidak pernah mudah, tapi, jangan pernah berhenti.

Never give up on your dreams. And the only thing that you need to do is... keep going.

[theaterformen-blog]

Keine Hilfe aber Haltung (ORATORIUM)

—see English version below—

Als work-in-progress untertitelt das Performancekollektiv She She Pop ihre neueste Arbeit ORATORIUM. Und um Transformation und Bewegung geht es auch im chorischen Wechselspiel von Zuschauer*innenraum und Bühnengeschehen. Es wird verhandelt, und zwar ein Thema, welches laut She She Pop „Freund*innen trennt, Macht über andere erteilt und ausschließt“. Was sich an diesem Premierenabend erstmals zwischen Publikum, acht Hannoveraner*innen sowie den Performer*innen von She She Pop vollzieht, ist ein Diskurs übers Eigentum im Korsett eines Lehrstücks nach Brecht.

In gewohnter Manier hievt das Kollektiv einen gewichtigen sozialen Themenkomplex auf die Bühne und schafft über ihr Konzept spielerisch, was für jeden noch so kontroversen Diskurs die Grundvoraussetzung darstellt: Es wird miteinander geredet. Das funktioniert bei ORATORIUM nach klarer Setzung, als vermeintliche Zuschauer*innen werden wir sofort zur Partizipation animiert. Je nach eigener Motivation und Zugehörigkeitsgefühl fordern She She Pop uns auf, Selbstaussagen und dialogische Versatzstücke – mal chorisch, mal einzeln – von einer der beiden Projektionsflächen abzulesen, welche maßgeblich Script und Verlauf des Abends vordiktieren.

Steife Gesellschaftskategorien samt klischierter Haltung werden zitiert und vorgeführt, die „gutsituierten Rentner*innen“ stehen (respektive sitzen) den „Müttern ohne Absicherung“ gegenüber, Idealist*innen und Utopist*innen oppositionieren die Realist*innen und Karrierist*innen, Gewinner*innen gegen Verlierer*innen des kapitalistischen Systems, Werte gegen Währung, Arm gegen Reich in ständig dialektischer Hab-Acht-Stellung für den Klassenkampf.

Und zwischen all dem spukt das allegorische Schreckgespenst des schlechten Gewissens als Formwandler.

Den zitierten Theaterwissenschaftler*innen geistert unterdessen mantrisch die Suche nach dem „Theaterereignis, das über sich selbst hinausweist“ durch den Kopf. Selbstironie? – Kann She She Pop! Alle dialektische Spannung, Polemik in den Diskursen, ein Bühnenbild, welches aus Fahnen, Bannern und Standarten zusammengesetzt ist, erinnert an ein mittelalterliches Heereslager und hebt mahnend den Zeigefinger: Die Fronten sind verhärtet!

Wem She She Pop an diesem Abend hingegen individuelle Bewegungsfreiheit zugestehen, sind die acht Hannoveraner*innen, welche noch sprunghafter als das Publikum ihre Gruppenzugehörigkeit wechseln, Kategorien aufbrechen und neue definieren, Gleichgesinnte suchen oder Vereinzelung und Individualität anstreben. Wer sich zwischen den verhärteten Fronten bewegen können soll, sind die Menschen, so She She Pops Utopie für die Gesellschaft.

Sie versuchen, die gesellschaftlichen Repräsentant*innen im Wechselspiel zu gruppieren und zu vereinzeln. Zuletzt streben sie die finale Versöhnung an, scheitern gewollt pädagogisch („Es herrscht vorerst Ratlosigkeit“) und münden doch im Pathos: „Wir haben keine Hilfe gefunden aber Haltung! Wir können einander wieder in die Augen schauen.“

Auf finale Anweisung schwillt ein vielstimmiges Summen im vereinten Publikum an, nur die Skeptiker*innen und Euphorischen variieren zu eigener Melodie. Zuletzt also ein Kanon als Utopie, dann …

3, 2, 1 … der Rest ist Schweigen. Und Applaus!

–

Attitude Not Help (ORATORIUM)

The performance collective She She Pop subtitles their latest piece ORATORIUM a work-in-progress. And in its choric interplay between the audience space and the stage action, it is also all about transformation and movement. The theme that is explored is one which according to She She Pop “divides friends, gives people power over others and excludes”. What on first glance takes place on this premiere night between the audience, eight residents of Hannover and the She She Pop performers is a discourse about property laced in the corset of a ‘Lehrstück’ (didactic play) after Brecht.

In their usual manner, the collective heaves this weighty set of issues onto the stage and, using their theatrical approach, manage to playfully establish the basic prerequisite for every other controversial discourse: people talk to each other. In ORATORIUM this works according to a clear arrangement, the supposed audience are immediately encouraged to participate. Depending each person’s motivation and sense of belonging, She She Pop ask us to read personal statements and fragments of dialogue – sometimes as a chorus, sometimes individually – from one of the two surfaces being projected on, which largely dictate the script and the course of the evening.      

Rigid social categories including clichéd attitudes are quoted and enacted, the “well-to-do pensioners” stand (or sit) facing the “mothers without security”, idealists and utopians are the opposition for the realists and careerists, the winners against the losers of the capitalist system, values against currency, the poor against the rich, on constant dialectical high alert for the class struggle.

And between all this roams the allegorical spectral bogeyman of bad conscience as a shape-shifter.

Quotes from theatre studies scholars and their search for the “theatre event that refers beyond itself” also haunts the mind like a mantra.

Self-referential irony – She She Pop’s speciality! All the dialectical tensions, polemics in the discourses, a set consisting of flags, banners and standards that reminds you of a medieval army camp raises its index finger in warning: the battle lines are drawn.

Those who She She Pop do allow individual freedom of movement to this evening, however, are the eight Hannover residents, who switch group allegiance more quickly and frequently than the audience, breaking open categories and defining new ones, seeking like-minded allies or striving for separation and individuality. Those who should be able to move between the hardened battle lines are people, this is She She Pop’s utopia for society.   

In shifting constellations, they attempt to group the social representatives and separate them into individuals. In the end, they strive for a final reconciliation, but fail deliberately in order to teach us a lesson (“For now hopelessness wins”), but then do ultimately end in pathos: “We haven’t found help, but we have found attitude! We can look each other in the eye again.”

Following the final instruction, a humming swells in the audience, their many voices now one, only the sceptics and those feeling euphoric hum to a different tune. Thus the night ends with a musical round as a utopia, then…

Three, two, one… the rest is silence. Applause!

--

Text: Michael Geißelbrecht Übersetzung: Bochert Translations (Anna Galt)

[occhioriflessopss]

Sin dai tempi dell’antico Egitto le palme sono state simbolicamente utilizzate sia in architettura che in religione, plasmando la forma delle capitali egiziane così come le cerimonie atletiche dei romani, ma principalmente esse sono associate, per la loro altezza ed il tronco longilineo, alle colonne. Al giorno d'oggi in Europa, quella della palma è un'immagine problematica, soprattutto dopo la tragica invasione del punteruolo rosso, un coleottero parassita che ha causato la morte di migliaia di palme in tutto il Mediterraneo nel corso degli ultimi anni. Originario dell'Asia tropicale, il punteruolo rosso si è spostato attraverso l'Africa e l'Europa sin dagli anni '80. Dopo la sua diffusione si è registrato il collasso delle palme in tutta l'Europa meridionale, una sorta di rovina naturale di materiale organico. Le coste sarde, siciliane, spagnole, portoghesi, greche, tunisine, egiziane, libiche, sono piene di palme spezzate che ricordano le colonne in rovina di edifici classici; le palme sono in rovina e il Mediterraneo è in fiamme. 

Nell'osservare il lavoro di Giaime, lo abbiamo immaginato simile a quello del neozelandese di Doré, a raffigurare le rovine dell'Europa meridionale per scriverne una storia di declino, decadenza, utopie fallite. C'è, comunque, un senso fondamentalmente problematico nella sua descrizione di questo scenario: narrazioni storiche o identitarie sembrano essere concetti difficili; il risultato, nell’immagine generale, è quello di una terra immaginaria, di una dialettica tra realtà e finzione, passato e futuro, creati dall'autore per la propria estetica, allo scopo di rispondere ad alcune domande radicali. C'è un origine ideale condivisa dai paesi del Mediterraneo? Un'identità visiva? Un passato mitico da scoprire? Un' estetica comune di qualche genere?

L’ultima sembra essere l’ipotesi più possibile, e la narrazione complessiva creata da Giaime con il suo viaggio fotografico riassume questa estetica del Mediterraneo: un'esotica, brutale, tropicale, pittoresca immagine di un paese immaginario in rovina.

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Since the time of ancient Egypt palms have been symbolically used in both  architecture and religion, shaping Egyptian capitals as well as Roman athletic rituals, but most of all they are associated, because of their tall, clean trunk, to columns. Nowadays in Europe, that of the palm plant is a problematic kind of image, especially after the tragic invasion of the red palm weevil, a parasite beetle which caused the death of thousands of palm plants all over the Mediterranean during the last years. Originally from tropical Asia, the red palm weevil has moved through Africa and Europe since the 80's. After its diffusion there has been a collapse of palms all over Southern Europe, a sort of natural ruin of organic material. Sardinian, Sicilian, Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, Tunisian, Egyptian, Lybian coasts are filled with broken palms resembling ruined Columns from classical buildings; palms are in ruin and the Mediterranean is on fire. Looking at Giaime's photographic images we can ask ourselves what kind of gazers we are, if we are looking at the ruins of something we belong to or not, if there' any (and what kind of, eventually) distance between us and this scenario; a distance that can be spatial, chronological, or sentimental. We've imagined that Giaime was working like Dorè's New Zealander, depicting the ruins of Southern Europe and writing a story of decline, decay, failed utopias. There is, anyway, a fundamental point in his depiction of this scenario: historical, identitarian narratives seem to be troubled notions, the resulting, overarching image, is that of an imaginary land, a dialectic between reality and fiction, past and future, created by the author for his own aesthetic, visual purpose to answer some radical questions. Is there an ideal origin shared by the Mediterranean countries? A visual identity? A mythical past to uncover? An aesthetic of sorts? The last seems to be the most possible of the hypothesis, and the overall narrative created by Giaime with his photographic tour summarizes this Mediterranean aesthetic: an exotic, brutal, tropical, picturesque image of a non existing country in ruins.

[antigenitalistischeoffensive2013]

Status Quo (German/English)

Weiterhin sind unsere Tätigkeiten als Gruppe auf mehr oder minder unauffälligen und privat scheinenden Onlineaktivismus, das gelegentliche Verteilen von Flyern und Bröschüren, sowie das Verbreiten der “Message” beschränkt.

Allerdings möchten wir in diesem Jahr wieder mehr in Erscheinung treten. Das wird aber noch dauern.

Allen neueren Followern und Lesern wird geraten, sich bei Interesse die älteren Texte und Aktionen dieses Blogs zu Gemüte zu führen, da diese umfassender und aussagekräftiger waren und unsere Gruppe sich seit einiger Zeit in einer Art Dämmerzustand befindet, Das liegt daran, daß von uns bezüglich Organisation und Vermittlung unserer Standpunkte eine andere Struktur verlangt wird, die wir bisher noch nicht auszuarbeiten im Stande waren. Bisher arbeiteten wir stets recht impulsiv und spontan (böse Zungen sagen, affektgeleitet), was sich aber bis dato nicht gerade bewährt hat.

Wir möchten in Zukunft leichter verständlich sein und unsere Theorie und Praxis, auch hier, in den Grundzügen schneller, kompakter und eingängiger vermitteln, ohne ein gewisses Niveau und unser Streben nach Autonomie und notwendiger Radikalität aufzugeben. Daran sind wir bisher gescheitert.

Einige Grundziele und -gedanken, auch persönlicher Natur, werden hier in nächster Zeit formuliert sein, in Vorbereitung einer deutlicheren und kompakteren Struktur und Sprache. Wir werden weiterhin bemüht sein, uns unseren Weg zwischen Konsequenz und Dogma, Utopie und Istzustand, etc. zu bannen. Fehler haben wir gemacht und werden wir weitermachen.

Dennoch sind wir weiterhin grundsätzlich eine autonome, emanzipatorische und der Anarchie zugewandte Ansammlung von Leuten, die sich mit vielen Mitteln eigene, von genitalistischen Vorgaben, Gesetzen und anderer Unterdrückung befreite Räume erkämpfen möchte, die genug hat von der verhängnisvollen körperhierarchischen Ordnung der jetzigen Gesellschaften und sich deshalb gegen diese stellt, Genitalismus, wo immer er auftaucht, benennt und bekämpft und sich nicht auf die “Kompromisse”, Sprache und Gesetze dieser Ordnung einlässt.

Wer den Austausch oder Umgang mit uns sucht, schreibe eine Mall mit Betreff “AGO” an firelily@cultofnarah.net

Wir hoffen, daß unser diesjähriger Versuch, die Gruppe neu zu ordnen, zu vergrößern und deren Strukturen und Output zu verbesseren, Früchte tragen wird.

-------------------

(translation based on a translation machine, with some corrections)

Furthermore our activities as a group on more or less unobtrusive and privately seeming online activism, occasional distributing of handouts as well as the spreading of the "message" are limited.

Indeed, we would like to appear more this year, again. But this will still last.

To all newer followers and readers with interest we suggest to take to heart the older texts and actions of this Blogs to themselves because these were more comprehensive and more expressive and our group is since some time in a sort of semiconscious state, This is due to the fact that another structure is required by us with regard to organisation and mediation of our positions, about to work out we were not up to now yet in the state. Up to now we always worked rather impulsively and spontaneously (bad tongues say, affect-escorted) what has proved itself, however, to date not exactly.

We would like to be lighter clear in future and our theory and practise, also here, in the main features faster, more compactly and more neatly mediate without giving up a certain level and our striving for autonomy and necessary radicality. We have failed because of it up to now.

Some basic aims and basic ideas, also of personal nature, will be formulated here in the next time, in preparation of a clearer and more compact structure and language. We will try hard furthermore to blaze our trail between consequence and dogma, utopia and current state, etc. We made mistakes and we will make other mistakes in the future. .

Still we are furthermore a basically autonomous, emancipatory and  anarchy-facing aggregation of people which likes to obtain own spaces which are freed of genitalistic standards, laws and other repression, which is fed up with this disastrous, bodyhierachic order of nowaday´s societies and is therefor opposing them. Genitalism, whereever it appears, will be named and combatted by us and “compromises”, language and laws of this order will not be accepted.

Who searches the exchange or contact with us, can write a  mall with reference "AGO" to firelily@cultofnarah.net

We hope that our this year's attempt to order and increase the group and its  structures and output will yield fruit.

[revuedepresse30]

Trump : son plan pour manipuler les données sur le climat @raminskibba

On Monday, Donald Trump’s press secretary Sean Spicer failed to answer a straightforward question about the national unemployment rate at a press …

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