by bels » Mon Jan 18, 2016 8:49 am
…there is an idea of a Bela Bartok, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can rep your comment and you can see my fit and read the brand list and maybe you can even recognise some of the items themselves: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. My comments are fabricated, aberrations. I am a noncontingent care tagger. My look is sketchy and unformed, my need to cop goes deep and is persistent. My coherence, my direction, my mood board disappeared a long time ago (probably at work) if they ever did exist. There are no more grails to obtain. All I have in common with the redditors and /fa/, the igents and the Jarvis teens, all the clothing I have bought and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no wardrobe is complete, nothing can be improved. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human consumption must be assumed to have some validity. Is clothing something you wear? Or is it something you buy? My need to cop is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better aesthetic for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every no cop I’ve broken—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my purchases. There has been no reason for me to buy any of this. This collection has meant nothing….”
