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1. Infinitas noches de vigilia
Reivindico mi soledad y mis tristezas. Expropio mi descontento y las consecuencias de ejércelo cotidianamente. Vivo el duelo diario de quien se sabe en la derrota.
He visto cómo se expande el desierto, la ruina y la miseria existencial. Poco más que el descanso se puede anhelar en el imperio de la nada. El momento llegó hace bastante tiempo, el cansancio era tan profundo y el entretenimiento tan abrumador que no supimos verlo.
Agentes de la normalidad expertos en simular que todo está en calma mientras son pocxs lxs que aún logran contener los nervios, la ansiedad y el llanto. Nos corresponde sembrar el caos como quien quema las naves convencido de que no hay a donde volver.
“El enemigo no tiene la inteligencia de las palabras, el enemigo las pisotea. Las palabras anhelan su lugar. La felicidad nunca ha sido sinónimo de paz. Es preciso hacerse una idea ofensiva de la felicidad.
La sensibilidad ha sido durante mucho tiempo una mera disposición pasiva al sufrimiento, ahora tiene que devenir el medio mismo del combate. Arte de convertir el sufrimiento en fuerza.
La libertad no tiene nada que ver con la paciencia, más bien es la práctica en acto de la historia. Inversamente, las “liberaciones” no son sino el opio de los malos esclavos. La crítica nace de la libertad, y le da a luz.” (Tiqqun, 1999)
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Endless sleepless nights
I vindicate my loneliness and my sadness. I expropriate my discontent and the consequences of exercising it daily. I live the daily duel of those who know they are defeated.
I have seen how the desert, ruin and existential misery expand. Little more than rest can be yearned for in the empire of nothing. The moment came a long time ago, the exhaustion was so deep and the entertainment so overwhelming that we didn't know how to see it.
Agents of normality, experts in simulating that everything is calm while there are few who still manage to contain their nerves, anxiety and crying. It belongs to us to sow chaos like those who burn the ships convinced that there is nowhere to return.
“The enemy does not have the intelligence of words, the enemy tramples them. Words yearn for their place. Happiness has never been a synonym of peace. It is necessary to have an offensive idea of happiness.
Sensitivity has long been a mere passive willingness to suffer, now it has to become the very means of combat. Art of turning suffering into strength.
Freedom has nothing to do with patience, rather it is the actual practice of history. Conversely, "liberations" are nothing but the opium of bad slaves. Criticism is born of freedom, and gives birth to it." (Tiqqun, 1999)
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2. En la huelga de los acontecimientos
La satisfacción de conocer lo que genera mi descontento se diluye por mi incapacidad de hacerle frente, por saberme insuficiente e insignificante respecto a un monstruo que no para de avanzar destruyendo todo a su paso.
Precipitaremos el acontecimiento en las áreas grises, carecerá de espectacularidad, de actos heroicos. Nuestro incendio será apenas una chispa, tan potente como para calentar las manos y el pecho de quienes nos acompañan en este viaje tortuoso.
Esto no es un llamado a autoengañarnos, es una invitación a habitar los márgenes alegremente, a aprovechar las grietas del sistema y a buscar los dispositivos que nos permitan convertir la frustración en una pasión creadora. Es un recordatorio de que expandir el desierto ya es la labor del enemigo y que es inútil descubrir la profundidad del abismo.
Innumerables razones para el hastío, hemos aprendido a habitar lo inhabitable.
¿Cómo no soñar con venganza? si nos despojaron de la vida, si todo a nuestro alrededor nos recuerda lo miserable de lo cotidiano, seguimos encontrándonos con quienes comparten la idea de que aún existen mundos por construir fuera del de lxs adaptadxs.
"No quiero ir nada más que hasta el fondo"
¿Cuánto tiempo tendría que estar condenado a este bloque de cemento para creer que el mar no me constituye? Aberrante como creer que las montañas y el viento no modifican sus formas al encontrarse o que el lobo podría existir sin los bosques que recorre y transforma al andar.
El individuo civilizado es el triunfo de la subjetividad occidental. La miseria existencial es pensar en individuos atomizados, independientes el uno del otro, capaces de sobrevivir entre paredes, vinculados únicamente por el intercambio mercantil.
La catástrofe ya es cotidiana, nos pasa por encima todos los días y se puede percibir en cada rincón de la metrópoli.
Y yo tampoco quiero ir nada más que hasta el fondo.
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In the strike of events
The satisfaction of knowing what generates my discontent is diluted by my inability to face it,
for knowing that I am insufficient and insignificant compared to a monster that does not stop advancing, destroying everything in its path.
We will precipitate the event in the gray areas, it will lack spectacularity, and heroic acts.
Our fire will be just a spark, powerful enough to warm the hands and chests of those who accompany us on this tortuous journey.
This is not a call to deceive ourselves, it is an invitation to happily inhabit the margins, to take advantage of the cracks in the system and to look for the devices that allow us to turn frustration into a creative passion. It is a reminder that expanding the desert is already the work of our enemy and that it is useless to discover the depth of the abyss.
Countless reasons for weariness, we have learned to inhabit the uninhabitable.
How not to dream of revenge? If they robbed us of life, if everything around us reminds us of the miserable everyday life, we continue to meet with those who share the idea that there are still worlds to be built outside of those of the adapted.
"I don't want to go anywhere but to the bottom"
How long would I have to be condemned to this block of cement to believe that the sea does not constitute me? Aberrational, like believing that the mountains and the wind do not change their forms when they meet or that the wolf could exist without the forests that it traverses and transforms as it walks.
The civilized individual is the triumph of Western subjectivity. Existential misery is thinking of atomized individuals, independent of each other, capable of surviving between walls, linked only by commercial exchange.
The catastrophe is a daily occurrence, it passes us over every day and it can be seen in every corner of the metropolis.
And I too, don't want to go anywhere but to the bottom.
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Lágrimas - No resources
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