Close to the Knives de David Wojnarowicz

I.

Last night I felt unbelievably sad and sometimes it happens that way: a sensation comes out across the landscape into the cities and further into the window of the car as I´m coasting the labyrinths of the canyon streets. It feels for a moment like nothing more than wind; it´s something I don´t see coming and suddenly it´s upon me and my eyes are blurring with tears and fragmented spills of neon and ghostly bodies of pedestrians and smokestacks and traffic lights and I´m gasping from a sense of loss and desire. I can´t think of anything I am truly afraid of and I´m trying to give something unspeakable words; some of us live in big cities so we can be alone, so we can avoid ourselves, and yet by living within massive populations we can have help or love within reach if necessary.

II.

I wanted a radical shift to occur so I could have a few minutes´peace or experience the silence of my brain. I wanted to be another person living a quiet farm life in a foreign culture. (…) I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn´t want to be here. I didn´t want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need.

III.

I don´t think the society or the situation is sitting there waiting to reject people; I don´t think it´s aware enough to say, “You don´t fit in”. (…) We set a standard that we can´t even live up to. We expect too much of a society that is probably going to reject us – it´s probably not even thinking of us.  (…) I want to adapt. I don´t think I´ll be giving anything up. I don´t care if I don´t value the thing I want to adapt to; it´s there – it´s a structure.

IV.

If silence equals death, he taught us, then art equals language equals life.

Olivia Laing, sobre David Wojnarowicz.

V.

It is exhausting, living in a population where people don´t speak up if what they witness doesn´t directly threaten them.

VI.

Smell the flowers while you can.

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