We are a population of strangers living in what we call society. An appalling state of being at the hands of our captors, our masters, and at the systematic brain washing of our institutions, church, family, government and education, etc. We are taught to “turn the other cheeck”, love our neighbor and not fuck anyone before we “get married”. Save yourself, we are told, and find “love”. Jesus loves you, Zion loves you, motherland loves you, your mother loves you. Your father loves you. Our appalling need to be loved, to feel needed, to be problem solvers, saviors and helpers. We are coerced and dominated to want to “ become self-sufficient, yet another euphemism for “finding a boss.” We plan and plan and focus and plan again to have “it” all. The family, the marriage, a job, “financial security”, the dream of having it all. Us the little perfect creatures of will, of dominance of machines. Us the children of the “future”, full of “hope”. Revolutionaries, idealists, products of indoctrination, now adults acquiring jobs and wives and husbands and bearing children and bury children. Us with our false sense of security, and the fuzzy feelings of compassion, sacrifice and heroism.
We now, thanks to the metaphor of a “network”, find that “fuzzy” feeling in the connection of cybernetic solitudes, the intermeshing of weak interactions under names like “colleague,” “contact,” “buddy,” “acquaintance,” or “date.” “ lover” and “partner”.
We are in the society where nothing is shared but codes, and where nothing is played out except the incessant recomposition of “identity”. We strip our relationships of “words” thinking honesty will come out of the shadows and “save“ our fucked up cohabitation.
all the masquerade we call social relations, and its reigning separation we serve to mask, becoming what it is through this masquerade.
Family. We all can testify to the rations of sadness, frustrations and anger condensed over the years in family gatherings, forced smiles, the awkwardness of seeing everyone pretending in vain. Secretly judging each other, going through the rituals and waiting for the moment when the sharade all ends and we can leave that lie of pretense. The feeling that a corpse is lying there on the table, and everyone’s acting as though it were nothing. We the creatures, the slaves of habit and ritual, from flirtation to timed sex, to fantasy play outs to divorce, from cohabitation to stepfamilies, from polyamorous to monogamous we like waves through the “years” feb and flow. Every one of us feels the inanity of the sad family nucleus, but most seem to believe that it would be sadder still to renounce it. Our illusory sense of “happiness, bliss and love” shatters at the thought of renouncing this unit, this insidious lie of a “love story”. The false sense of “security”, “duty”, “ “obligation”, “protection”, “avoidance”, “ “guilt”, are different masks we use to pretend we don’t see the corpse. Hiding it with a smile and the words of “reassurance and love”. We seek change to “improve” ourselves, to “save“ our marriages, relationships, family and children. We have to “hold on”, “be there”. We thrive on this masochist feeling of seeing the suffering and try to hold on to it. To complain about it, and make love to it. It’s our lifeline, our caged “identity”.
Because hey! Here at the camp anything is possible, if we simply “try”. If we want it “hard enough”, if we “care enough”. It really doesn’t matter if the family is a fucked up, deranged pile of lies, pretense, and feelings of inadequacy and guilt, masked by “ understanding” and “unconditional love”. We just got it! We want it! More lovers and more children and more dates and wives and husbands, and this and that. Our fuzzy sense of security and family values. The familiarity of having a family who “love and cares and is there for us”. Marriage is our last stage of this great debacle. Our “oasis” in the middle of the camp of civilization. We approach it under the auspices of “intimacy,” while dubiously, looking for everything that has so obviously deserted contemporary social relations: warmth, simplicity, truth, a life without theater or spectator. We are a “couple” we boast and “take pride”. We tough it out, get through the motions, to “communicate, advise, and change,” because that love we say. “ love hurts, but it’s worth the pain”. Romance, words of love and intimacy all in our language of love. We denounce all else, and live a lie. But once the romantic high has passed, “intimacy” strips itself bare: it is itself a social invention, it speaks the language of glamour magazines and psychology; like everything else, it is bolstered with so many strategies to the point of nausea. A shit pile of to-do-lists, and night time rituals, deafening silence and empty how’s-it-goings, along with a dash of habitual kiss on the lips, and nonchalant “goodbyes”. And This Nauseatingly boring system of have-to-do’s and just-be-honest-and-be-yourself. There is no more truth here than elsewhere; here too lies and the laws of estrangement dominate. And when, by good fortune, one discovers this truth, it demands a sharing that belies the very form of the “couple”. What allows beings to love each other is also what makes them lovable, and ruins the utopia of autism-for-two.