I saw you when I lost interest in everything
Those anxious, contradictory, painful, crazy people, the world has a huge exploitation, devouring consumption, dissipating powerlessness
I am looking for a theory to transform, transcend, and guide my practice.
I once doubted the complex motives of all my actions, so I stopped, punched that shallow believer, and wiped out my dead father who was still and unyielding. I used symbols to organize an airtight membrane, many things were suppressed and knotted, my life was stagnant, and the cracked gaps separated me from the world. Desperately waiting for a miracle to overthrow my existence and stimulate my desire, because existence is to face all experiences, to face anxiety and pain, disappointment and despair, that is you, that is life, that is everything to you.
I once sealed myself to draw a map, and I am finally going to set off
Go forward at the edge of the map.
i see you
I looked at P4 Theater record and I felt like I was inside the camera that was recording.
I love a richness that is a luxury and a lack to me. I once sealed off my desires to resist the control of the ideological machine. I once cut myself off from the world and resisted desperately. But I finally came to this theater, a possibility of return, facing the desire to open up.
This show mocked me, the flashing lights in the waiting room were provocative
turning point
with
interrupt
The story shatters into countless signifier fragments, meaningless, struggling to erupt in expressions that are truer than truth. A reorganization of boundaries, the breathing of desire.
I've always hated dramatic accents. Who the hell would use that accent? Hypocritically practicing lewd chanting and speaking with perfect pronunciation like a slave. A bunch of graceful bitches. The truth can only pass through in the broken, dark and flickering whispers, and the hoarse shouts when it breaks out should be heard clearly. Only by letting go of superficial restrictions and breaking the shackles of power and approaching can you be worthy of hearing these subtle narrations. There is no flattery, no submission, how brave sincerity we need to break the endless falsehood, shoulder the despair of surrender, and approach the impossible reality. I once again tore off the film, gasping for breath to re-exist, seeking connection and expression, anticipating desire and disillusionment.
I want to come back to life again, tear myself apart and breathe
Postscript
On the eve of the performance of "The Last Rehearsal", Yanan suddenly told me that he wanted to watch it. He groped his way to P4 Theater in the psychoanalysis group, and his mind was filled with endless theories and slang. Then, after standing there for three hours from Shijiazhuang, he came to Beijing. Along the way, he found Sashimi Bookstore and watched the performance. He told me that he needed desire. I said, start taking action today and let your consciousness pop out the magazine.