Americans May Have No Identity, But They

The Era Of The Political Was One Of Anomie: Crisis, Violence, Madness And Revolution. The Era Of The Trans-political Is That Of Anomaly: An Aberration Of No Consequence, Contemporaneous With The Event Of No Consequence.

You Need An Infinite Stretch Of Time Ahead Of You To Start To Think, Infinite Energy To Make The Smallest Decision. The World Is Getting Denser. The Immense Number Of Useless Projects Is Bewildering. Too Many Things Have To Be Put In To Balance Up An Uncertain Scale. You Can't Disappear Anymore. You Die In A State Of Total Indecision.

Boredom Is Like A Pitiless Zooming In On The Epidermis Of Time. Every Instant Is Dilated And Magnified Like The Pores Of The Face.

To Love Someone Is To Isolate Him From The World, Wipe Out Every Trace Of Him, Dispossess Him Of His Shadow, Drag Him Into A Murderous Future. It Is To Circle Around The Other Like A Dead Star And Absorb Him Into A Black Light.

It Is The Corpse Of The Bourgeoisie That Separates Us. With Us, It Is That Class That Is The Carrier Of The Chromosome Of Banality.