In the darkest hole

Critical theory advice column: start from the assumption that no one likes you, so that when someone does, the satisfaction is even greater.

There’s nothing worse than a friendship born of neuroses.

Such is the testament of hate. Of other-loathing. Don’t look for happiness, commitment, attachment, intersubjectivity, relationality, communication oriented to achieving a rational consensus, the ideal speech situation. Expect hostile engagement.

It’s too late/ to fall in love with Sharon Tate. — Iggy Pop

Sitting next to a preoccupied man dressed in black, her physicality pressed against his left leg. Wondering at the recognition of physical contact with a stranger, even a beautiful one, left him puzzled how to bridge the gap to the emotional. Thrilled, yet awash in tears inside. They parted together. Same stop. Walked the same stairs emerging from the urine stains of the underground’s bunker.

Met someone famous. Someone creative. In another life. But there is none — no other life. What is this life? More behind than ahead. Living on depleted memory. Half-life. Forgot his age, advancing it. To what end?

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